





A N O 



OTHER POEMS. 



TACITUS I1USSEY. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap._ Copyright No. 

Shelf.tU..?J7RS 
L\ % 5 (s 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE RIVER BEND 



AND .... 



OTHER POEMS 



BY 



TAC ITTTS HUSSEV 




I LI. I 1ST RAXED. 




^:r^ \ 



^^u-> 



DES MOINES. IOWA: 

CARTER cV HUSSEY. PRINTERS. 

1896. 






v-*^^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1896, 
By TACITUS HUSSEY, 
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



This Volume will be sent, prepaid, to any address 
on receipt of $1.(X). 
TACITUS HUSSEY, Des Moines, Iowa. 



CONTENTS. 

Frontispiece 2 

Illustrations, 10 

Proem 11 

Dedicator\' M 

The River Bend 17 

To Robin Redbreast 20 

Tlie Reason Whv 21 

The Hoosier Nectar 22 

'Ihe Summer's Farewell. 24 

Disillusion 2> 

HiK^h Li^Mits 26 

When the Bloom Is on the (^orn 28 

Chr\'santhemum ^0 

Our Hoosier State, ^1 

In Memory ot J. Addison Hepbuin ^2 

My Ladv's Violin ^^ 

June, ^s 

Memory's Cadence ?6 

Till Death Do Us Part 42 

Junior H\inn 43 

The First Snow ot Winter 44 

Early Called 4S 

When the Mists Have Passed 46 

J'o Henry Watterson, 47 

The Old Hawkeye Band 48 

The Friend in Need, ^0 

Vernal Longings, S4 



Easter Day, 56 

A Dream, 57 

The Family Thought, 59 

General James M. Tuttle, 60 

In Memoriam 62 

July, 63 

To Margaret, . 64 

Free Currency, . .65 

Christmas Bells, 67 

You Know it, 70 

Misapprehension, 71 

Thanksgiving Suggestion, 72 

Lovely May, 74 

The Flood — 1892, . , 75 

The Sunday School's Farewell, 77 

Precaution, , . 79 

The Kicker's Funeral, 80 

Return of the Prodigals, 82 

America's Crown, 87 

To a November Dandelion, 88 

A Surprise, 89 

Memory's Song, , ... 90 

Hoosier Echoes, 91 

Rising Genius, 93 

Jubilee Year, 94 

A Spring Beauty, . , 96 

The Good Old Times, 99 

Easter Morning, 101 

Christmas, 102 

The Poet's Plea, . , 103 

Spring, 105 

Goin' to Farmin', 106 

Tears Mingled, 108 

Columbus Day, , . , 109 

The Tariff Ill 



Christmas Carol, 112 

Would Like Anotlier Cliance 114 

The Old Rain Barrel 116 

Prosperity, 118 

The Temple Beautiful 119 

Which? 121 

A Thanksgiving Toast. 122 

The Kound Up 123 

The Homesick Hoosier, 124 

The Under Cat 12S 

Plain Jane and Me MO 

October n2 

The World's Fair Poem . . .11^ 

Hie Kehktant Idea M^ 

The kace at Cherokee, \\6 

Forty Years in Iowa, M9 

She Had 141 

Hoosier Recollections. 112 

September. \\\ 

Christmas Doings 14^ 

Reconsideration 148 

The Poet of the Future M9 

Cause and Ettect \>\ 

A River Id\l . M^ 



POEMS ILLUSTRATED. 



The River Bend, 

The Flood, 

The Friend in Need, 

Spring Beauty, 

My Lady's Violin, 

Frontispiece, (The Author.) 

Easter Day, 

Dedicatory, 

Forty Years in Iowa, 
Christmas Bells, 
Homesick Hoosier, 
Christmas Carol 
Return of the Prodigals, 



Zeese & Sons, Engravers, 



Photos, H N. Little, 



F. W. Webster. 



Illustration, Jennie Girton, Waterloo, Iowa, 

Zeese & Sons, Engravers. 
Photo, Ideal Portrait Co., 
(Snap Shot,) F. H. Luthe, 
illustrations, Clara Hendricks, Star Engraving Co. 



The press work on this book was done by courtesy of the Kenyon Printing and 
Manufacturing Company. 



10 



PROEM. 

I saw a spider spin a slender thread. 

From his small spinaret. tloatinti; free ; 
How busii\ he wrou.uht, as on it sped — 

1 stood and wondered w iiat hi^ aim could be. 

And from his lowly workshop on the ground. 

Breeze- wafted, his tinv line rose hi<::her. 
And, fast'nin^ to a loftier shrub, he found 

B\' climbing, he could uin his heart's desire. 

Then, from the higher vantapje ground, spun he, 
A longer thread, which soared hii2;h in the air. 

And. wind-directed, touched a tall oak tree. 
Which caught it tenderly, and held it there. 

So. like the spider. I have tlun;^ some lines 
Out on an unknown world, maybe, for nauj;ht ; 

But tremblinij;, hope that it Nour heart inclines — 
You'll be the Oak. on which thevVe t'irmlv cautrht ! 




MRS. JENNIE CLEMENT HUSSEY 



DEDICATORY. 

To her, who through life's sun and 
shade. 

In summer's heat, in winter's cold. 
Since paths together have been laid 

To walk, until Life's tale is told ; 
To her, the true and lovin.i:: wife. 

Whose presence brightened many 
a mile 
Upon the tortuous way of life. 

Who always met me with a smile. 



The storm which swept Life's ocean, where 

Our little bark, at anchor lay. 
Oft rudely stirred the waters there, 

in our snu^ harbor, " Sunshine Baw" 
And clouds, which o'er our pathway wept. 

Their silver linin<i showed, the while ; 
And shinHiierin<i throu.uh, the sunshine crept. 

Whene'er she met me with a smile. 



So, all alont:; the milestone's mark. 
Which separates the wear\- years, 

The pilgrims trudge, in light or dark, 
Beset without, within, with fears ; 

But oh ! the cloud-rifts on the way. 
Which man\- dreary hours beguile, 

If he, at journe\'s end, can say : 

" She alwa\"s met me w ith a smile ! 

13 



THE WIX^ER REND 




THH I^IVHR BHNl). 



What ']o\\ upon the JaiK'inij; stream. 

Under the sweepin*:; paddle's play, 
'Neath tinted sk\- troni sunset's t^leam, 
Where water-lilies lie and dream. 

Awaitin.^ the soft touch ot day,- - 
To voxaije in a lii^ht canoe. 

In which there's onlv room tor two! 



THE RIVER BEND AND (3THER POEMS. 



Where purlinii; streams wind in and out, 
In wastefulness and wanton ^lee, 

Where willows dip their thirsty boughs, 

And lovers 'change undying vows 

Beneath the well known trysting tree, 

We linger in our light canoe. 

In which there's only room tor two! 

The robin sings; or sweet brown thrush 
On topmost bough in evening air. 

With heaving breast and swelling throat 

Pours out his heart with every note ; 
The while, we sit in silence there. 

Concealed from the musician's view, 
Entranced, within the light canoe: 

Or idly float, 'neath silent stars, 

While sprinkled thickly on the stream 

Their bright reflected faces show ; 

With stars above and stars below. 

It all seems like a passing dream. 

With thoughts too deep for words, we two 
Sit voiceless, in our light canoe ! 

Oh. Golden Silence! When two hearts 
Are throbbing with responsive beat! 
When trembling on the lips are hung 
The sweetest words of mortal tongue, 
Which lovers falt'ringly repeat: 
"1 love you!" who would not be true 
To plighted troth in light canoe? 



THt-; HIVfcH BEXD AND OTHER POEMS. 



19 



Dear River Bend, with lii^ht and shade ! 

With fringed willows by the score. 
Festooned with wild grape blossoms sweet. 
While lipping waves thy name repeat 

In whispered ripples 'long the shore; 
Sad da\. when we shall bid adieu 

To thee, and to our swift canoe ! 

And when down Life's long stream we glide 
To where St\\' waters darkly roll. 

And meet old (Aharon, gaunt and grim. 

To his demandings sav to liim : 
•• insist not on our pa\ing toll ; 

For. if it's just the same to \'ou. 

We'll cross o'er in our staunch canoe!" 




20 THH KIVHH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



TO ROBIN REDBREAST. 

Old Winter, thou art ij;<^MnK ! 
Sayest thou so, thou bird with breast of fiery red ; 
Speakest thou as a prophet, or dost thou only i^uess ? 

Art thou, tlien. so knowing;? 

There may be frosts and snows 
Ere the tongues of the httle rills are loosed again, 
And thev jov to run the race with rivers to the sea ; 

Who but the prophet, knows? 

When autumn leaves grew dry 
And thou and thy mates looked on each other, 
Saving in a language plainly understood : 
" Why sit we here and die, 

" When in Egypt there is food. 
Where, in balmy air, perennial blooms the rose ; 
Where snow and chilling frost, with biting icv breath 
Can ne'er be understood?" 

O'er lakes and forests tall. 
How foundest thou the way, by night, by day, in 
Weary, toilsome flight, unless He did guide thee. 

Who marks the sparrow's fall? 

Oh, happy wert thou then. 
Bathing in the limpid stream and sunlight 
With thy mate. Didst not th\- heart often vearn 

For thy north home again ? 

Yes, 1 know it must, for see. 
Thou art here, looking for the dear, familiar spots 
Thou didst know and love last year. Even 

The very apple tree. 



THE RIVHl^ BhNl) AND OTHER POE.WS. 21 



Where thou and thy loved mate 
Reared in safety, 'mid its sheltering: branches. 
A brood of five open-mouthed, callow tled^lini;s 

To robin's full estate. 

Th\ ^onti; is ver\ >\\eet 
On evening: air at set of sun. Tlie ne\s' born day 
Finds thee still praising Him who loves and cares for 

All his creatures, it is mete. 

Prophetic, art thou, bird ! 
Tin presence brings visions of swellini; bud>. wild 
Flowers. b\' Kini;; Winter's rei.^n entombed, till Spriiiijj's 

Hnchantinii voice is heard : 

Nature's resurrection day : 
When the dead shall heir the voice: '"(^ome torth ai^ain 
Be warnu-d to life b\ >>ummer"s sun .;nd shower I " 

And io\full\ obe\'. 



THH KKASON WHY. 

You naui^htx . wicked bo\ I "' she said. 

" To kill those prett\ birds I 

I've halt a mind "' her e\e^ flashed fire. 

More dan^i^erous than her words. 
Please, miss." the friichtened boy replied. 

Cowerinij; where he sat ; 
1 had to kill these Orioles 

To trim m\ sister's hat ! " 



22 THH I^IVKH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE HOOSIER NECTAR. 

The sprints; is kinder linti;erin' 

In Winter's lap tliey say, 
Though the wild si;eese go a honkin' north 

An' the birds hev come to stay ; 
Yet there's an achin' void which can't 

Be filled by birds or grass- 
A hankerin' of the soul which cries 

For tea of Sassafras. 

I jest set down sometimes and long 

For them Indiana woods, 
When we uster, in the early days, 

Git purifyin' moods ; 
And usher in the early spring, 

Singly, or en masse. 
By washin' down our corn pone bread 

With tea of Sassafras. 

We'd never heerd of microbes then, 

In fact, they wasn't known ; 
The wisest doctors in the land 

Had never yet been shown 
Such things as we are findin' now - 

With magnifyin' glass — 
But they can all be driven out 

With tea of Sassafras. 

It's jest too bad, Mirandv says, 

That she can't fer a minnit 
Set out doors a pan of jellv 

'Thout them critters gittin' in it ; 
An' you git 'em in your system 

Jest by eatin' of this sass 
An' to git 'em out we hev to drink 

The tea of Sassafras ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 23 



Pennyroyal may be fairly good. 

Er Boneset. to the taste. 
But drink in' store tea in the spring; 

Is onl\- jest a waste; 
Ef you want ter purit\- \ er blood. 

An' avoid too much "blue mass," 
Jest grab a grubbin' hoe and dig 

Some roots of Sassafras 

An' bile 'em fer a spell, and drink 

The tea three times a daw 
An' the megrums and blue devils 

Will forever tlee awa\ . 
There comes a time in all our lives 

When the heasens are as brass. 
An' blood corp'sules jest holler out 

For tea of Sassafras ! 

Some men >pend iiearK all their lives 

At colleges and sich. 
To dig out roots with skeerv names 

That haint no use. and which 
Are used to mystify and skeer 

The ignoranter class. 
Who jest go on from spring to spring. 

Drinkin" tea ot Sassafras! 

We alius brt-w some ot this tea. 

In spring twilight, soft and dim. 
An' git the old blue teapot out 

An' till it to the brim ; 
Then set and quaff this beverage 

Until we gentK' pass 
In sweet dreams, to Indiannx, with 

Her tea of Sassafras ! 



24 THH HIVHH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE SUMMER'S FAREWELL. 

Dyint; : 
Suinnier with her birds and flowers ; 
Leaves with blood-red colors iJ:linting 
hi the smoke veiled sun's soft tintina; ; 
To regretful mortals hinting, 
Death to summer shine and showers. 
Slowly dying ! 

Fading : 
How the summer flowers are fading ! 
There yet remains the goldenrod 
To greet the world with graceful nod, 
its sweet face lifted up to God, 
With answering tints of sunset's shading. 
Sweetly lingering! 

Flitting : 
See how summer birds are flocking. 

For the warm south home's returning ; 
Knowing well and well discerning 
Warmth and food there waits tlie earning. 
Where Nature's door opes to their knocking. 
Happv songsters ! 

Chafmg : 
Ah. mv soul, what a glad winging ! 
Breaking cords of care and toiling 
Hands and hearts forever soiling, 
Flving far from labor's moiling. 
To All the earth and air with singing ! 
Life's unchaining ! 



THH KIVH1< BEND AM) OTHER POEMS. 



Passing : 
IJke the summer, life is passint:; I 

How. like chan^iiii; leaf of m\Ttle 
Fade we. fall and pass the portal 
Leading; to the life immortal. 
Where the Kiiit:; of Life is sittint^ 1 
Swiftly passinjjj ! 



DISILl.USION 



Her e\es were ot the deepest blue. 

Her teeth were white as pearls: 
M\ heart beat at a furious rate : 
Mv eves were fastened to m\ plate : 
Mv e.^o said : '* She is xour tate 

This prettiest ot ,ij:irl» ! '" 
And when she raised her face to mine. 

What sweetness tilled m\ cup ! 
But when with ear of corn between 
Her lil\ hands were to\in^ seen. 
She <;nawed the rows oft. slick and clean. 

I si.^hed and i^ave her up I 



26 THE HWER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



HIGH LIGHTS. 

Last evenin' 1 was left alone and kinder fell to musin' 
'Bout them times when all the world was sort o' slow and shore; 

When the days were meant for work, and the nights were used 
for snoozin', 
And the latch-strino: used to hani^ from everybody's door. 

How we used to ride to church in any sort of weather 
Behind a patient ox team, with a jolly lot of pairs, 

Who warn't never in a hurry and did not care much whether 
They got there just in time for first or second prayers. 

There's no such thing as hurry and 'twas little use to bother 
An ox team as it took its way from early morn till night ; 

But the delibTate way they put one foot before the other, 
To a man of moderation was a very restful sight. 

1 seemed to see before me, my cabin wall's adornin'. 
The strips of pumpkin dryin', with Calamus and Sage, 

The Pennyroyal, Boneset, Tansy and the dry seed corn in 
Rows, for the spring seedin', and the Catnip for tender age. 

The plates up in the cupboard all set on aige and gleam in' 
In the light from open fire, in the tire place, big and wide. 

The dancin' shadders on the walls, the tea-kittle a steamin'. 
The backlog throwing sparkles out the andirons beside. 

That the world is makin' changes is not to be disputed, 
But if you jest could see the sights I witness every day, 

You'd wonder jest as 1 do, how sech High Art evoluted, 
An' got tangled up with Bricky-brack in such a skeery way. 



THE HlVtl^ BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



Our Sunday wash-rags all have jj;ot a Jaberwock a starin'. 

My boot-jack is a pinchln'-bus. with wild, protrudin' eyes. 
With Ciriftins on the wash-bowl, while the pitcher is a sharin' 

The deep glow of one of Italy's most excited skies ! 

1 eat mv fish on Fridays from one of those hand-wrought dishes, 
With a pickerel painted on it, jest a gaspin' for its breath, 

While the butterflies, the millers, and the thirst\- little fishes 
'Round the aige. give silent witness to its \er\ cruel death. 

Mirand\ sa\ s the painter^ in the medie\al ages 
Worked long upon their picters for the\'d nothin' else to do 

An' descanted 'bout sech art on history's future pages 
While 1 ^ewed nn a button fer to hitch m\ gallus to! 

An' as fer taking lessons, folks don't think of sech a thing : 
They jest git brush and canvas and paint picters on the run 

And pester old Dame Natur' or shoot her on the wing 
With the ever-present Kodack. or the photographic gun ! 

Then there's Extension I.ecters. plain people's thoughts beguilin'. 

And leading their ambition and intellect astray. 
By 'Varsit\- Professors, jest to keep their pots a bilin'. 

Which ma\ be would be difficult in an\' other way. 

And women in the sixties, doin* Delsartean acts. 

An' imitatin' antics which our frisk\ maidens do; 
And tr\in to be graceful at expense of achin' backs 

Land of hope and blessed promise I What's the world a comin' 
to.^ 



28 THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



WHEN THE BLOOM IS ON THE CORN. 

When the i^oldenrod is budding 

On tlie iiills and by tiie streams, 
As an earnest that it soon will glad 

Our eyes with sunny beams ; 
When the katydid persistent sings 

From early eve till morn, 
All nature seems to joy with us 

When the bloom is on the corn. 

The goldenrod with nodding plumes 

In every waste place grows ; 
The katydid, in thrilling tones, 

Pipes the only song it knows ; 
.Esthetic people, at these two. 

May curl their lip in scorn ; 
But flower and song are dear to me. 

As the bloom upon the corn. 

1 sit me down sometimes and long 

For those bright fabled lands. 
Where sweet perennial roses bloom 

"Mid billowy waste of sands, 
But content myself with wondering 

If it would not be forlorn 
Ne'er to mix those sweet breathed tlowers 

With the bloom upon the corn. 



THE HIVEH BEM) AND OTHER P(3E.N\S. 29 



And oh. when Want or Famine, sore. 

Rears up its tarnished head ; 
While children tuii; at mother's skirts 

With huniirN- cries for bread ; 
How sweet "twill be to still those cries. 

Across the waters borne. 
Bv sending them relief, because 

The bloom is on the corn. 

If all the plants, exceptini: corn. 

Were compressed into one. 
For crownini: ot the kinii of earth. 

For the i!;ood that he had done. 
Kin^^ Maize would then be laurel wreathed. 

And proudlv would be worn. 
Amid the plaudits of the world. 

While the bloom i> on the corn. 

Proud lt)\\a. with tlowers bedecked. 

As fair as an\ bride. 
To thee I sin^ this simple strain. 

With a heart uplift of pride. 
As nations turn their e\es to thee. 

Their children vet unborn 
Will bless thee, with uplifted hands, 

For the bloom upon the corn. 



30 THE HIVHH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



CHRYSANTHEMUM. 

She peeps at me throuij;h the window pane 

As I pass with Hngering pace ; 
How sweet she looks, but does not deign 
To invite the touch which I would fain 

Place on her witching face. 
How fair she is in her dainty dress, 

And wherefore is she come, 
In winter season thus to bless 
Us with her blooming ? Can you guess 

Her name ? Chrysanthemum ! 

How sweet of her, when the year is old. 

With the breath of frost and ice. 
To link the seasons, warm and cold. 
With floral chain of red and gold, 

Of Nature's own device ! 
Oh, queen, well worthy of a crown ! 

To teach us thou art come. 
To give brightness for a winter's frown ; 
Thus smiling all despondence down, 

Like thee, Chrvsanthemum ! 



THE HIVEH BENT) ANT) OTHER POEMS. 31 



OUR HOOSIER STATE. 

We sirifj: the Hoosier's glad refrain 
In joying that we meet again. 
To sing a song and shake the iiand 
hi memory of our native land. 

Oh, Hoosier Land. Loved Hoosier Land. 

With r vt-rs. lakes and forests grand : 
Our thoughts are turning back to thee. 
And in our vision still can see 
The old well sweep, the cabins low. 
Our happ\ homes of long ago. 

Our thoughts go roaming through the glade. 
And rest at times beneath the shade 
Of Paw Paw tree, or spreading Linn. 
The sweet Black Haw or Chinquapin. 

Oh. Hoosier Land. Lo\ed Hoosier Land. 

Th\' visions rise on every hand : 
We ride again, with little jov ; 
Along th>' roads of Corduroy. 
And drink. v\ithout a trace of smile. 
Tin Boneset tea in ever\- style ! 

Dear Hoosier State, our memor\"s pride. 
We love thee. la\ ing jokes aside. 
We crown th\' memory to-da\" 
With wreaths of Dogwood blossoms gay. 
Oh. Hoosier Land. Loved Hoosier Land 
We for th\' honor ever stand ; 
We'll ne'er forget the taste or smell 
Of Sassafras and Calomel ; 
We'll drink thv health without remark 
In Whisk\- mixed with Cherr\- Bark ' 



32 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



IN MEMORY OF J. ADDISON HEPBURN. 

Folded hands, now white and still, 

Silently surrenderini;- 
All to God's most g;racious will ; 
Gone, beyond all care and ill, 
Dust to dust now rendering; ; 
Folded, placid hands, 
Once such busy hands. 

What to them life's busy throni^; 

From it now dismembering ? 
He, whose life was as a song ; 
A heart which carolled all day long. 
With notes well worth remembering. 
Folded, icy hands. 
Once such clinging hands. 

Folded hands, now sweet in rest, 

Friendship's strong ties sundering. 
Feeling that God knoweth best. 
Consenting to His high behest. 
Weeping still and wondering ; 
Folded, idle hands. 
Emptv. trusting hands. 

Folded, tired and weary hands, 

Quietly and trustingly. 
Waiting the Father's loved commands, 
To rise to sun-kissed upper lands. 
In peace the Savior's face to see ; 
Promise grasping hands. 
Happy, clinging hands. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



33 




MY I.ADVS VIOLIN. 

If I were but her violin, 
kestin^^ beneath her diiiipleJ chin. 

How happ\ would I be? 
With tini,^ers pressing here and there, 
riliJinir in cadence ever\\vhere. 
With touches Iii!;ht and passing tair. 
That would be heaven tor me. 
It I were but her \'ioIin, 
Her soul-entrancinii violin I 



It I were but her violin. 
Restinjj: beneath her snow-white chin, 

What could 1 want beside I 
With tinijers tair b\' her caressed. 
Reposin^^ on her heaving breast. 
IJke chirpin.u: birdlin.u in its nest. 
Could there a woe betide. 
It I were but her violin. 
Her spirit-soothing^ violin ? 



34 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



It I were but her violin, 
Pressed lightly by her rounded chin, 

How silent would 1 lie ! 
Waiting the touch of magic bow, 
Wielded by arm as white as snow. 
Giving me voice, now loud, now low. 
In sweetest melody, 

If I were but her violin. 
Her foot-bewitching violin ! 



If I were but her violin. 
Pressed lovingly beneath her chin, 

Ah, what ecstatic bliss ! 
To feel the throbbing of each vein, 
As from sweet music's tangled skein 
Come sounds as soft as summer's rain. 
When storm clouds gently kiss ; 
If I were but her violin, 
Her wooing, cooing violin ! 

If I were but her violin. 
With envied place beneath her chin, 

How sweet would be the note 
Td yield to her caressing hands, 
The treasure which her skill demands ; 
Or, servile be, as slave who stands 
To kiss the hand which smote, 
If I were but her violin, 
Her heart-subduing violin ! 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



3S 



If I were but her violin. 
To rest no more beneath her chin. 

How sad would be the day 
When Music's daughter was brou<!;ht low. 
And when, with tremblinu: hands and slow 
She'd la\- me. with the useless bow. 
Forever trom her tduch awav ! 
An old. nej;lected violin. 
A silent, soundless violin ! 




JUNE. 



( )h. month ot daintx' roses I 

Rrt)utiht torth b\ warm Ma\- showers, 
We hail thee with thy garlands 

Of ti;aily tinted flowers. 
But there's a dark suspicion 

That th\ i::lories without doubt. 
In charmiui:; Nature's lovers. 

Will hatch the microbes out ! 



36 THE HIVHH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



MEMORY'S CADENCES. 

Read before Early Settlers Society, September M, 1892. 

Do you ask why this infliction. 

Why 1 sing this song before you, 

Filled with very ancient legends, 

Bringing back to fading memories 

Incidents almost forgotten, 

Even many jokes with whiskers ? 

Listen, 1 will quickly tell you, 

Why, from mind so retrospective, 

1 have sown beside all waters. 

Reaping now a memory's harvest ; 

Listen, you will all remember. 

That, in an unguarded moment, . 

You elected me historian. 

Hence, you'll have to grin and bear it ! 

Whence gained I these musty mouthings 

With the moss of age upon them, 

With the odor of the forests 

Mingling with the prairie flowers ; 

Just as nature breathed upon them 

In our then primeval forests. 

On our boundless, trackless prairies.^ 

1 will tell you if you'll hearken 
Barlow Granger taught me many. 
By his Star, which rose in splendor, 
In the year before the fifties. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 37 



When he printed in a cabin 

The first paper in this section ; 

Fijz;htin^ cold in dead of winter. 

Which crept tiir()Ui!;h the interstices. 

B\' live coals beneath his presses. 

Thus to soften ink and rollers. 

Honor be to Barlow Grander, 

For his Star, thus early shining. 

Lightened up the settler's pathwa\ ; 

Spoke our village into bein^ ! 

Honor be to !.. P. Sherman. 

Who. by his (ja/ette has tauj^ht me 

Many stories of privations 

He endured in eighteen f'lftv. 

When lie ate hi> bread with scarceness. 

Sharing with his poorer neij^hbors ; 

Honors thrice to 1.. P. Sherman I 

Learned them in the settler's cabins 

At their frugal dinner tables. 

Eating corn pone without butter. 

Spearini:; bacon from the skillet 

Where it swam in richest ^ra\\ ! 

Ah. those time^ ot want and scarceness. 

How the\ welded hearts to,i:;ether 

In a wa\ not soon lorj^otten ! 

(ieori^e d. Wright, the >tor\ teller. 
The just Judiie from Keosauqua. 
He has told me mam stories, 
Mixini:; up m\ tears with laui,^hter I 

You remember Martin Tucker. 

Who had ■• stablini:; at ri,u;ht ani^les," 

On his ta\eni built "• condition." 



38 THE KIVEH BEND AND (3THER POEMS. 



Ran an " avenue " throuj^h the middle, 
"Detained" sj;uests in "iiostile " manner ? 
And Squire Younii;, tlie tiioughtful student, 
Drove a nail in tloatinti; pontoon. 
At the water's edi2;e he drove it, 
In the evenini>;, at the '' Float Bridge," 
Thus to note the rising water. 
In the morning, though the river 
Looked more angry and seemed wider. 
He declared it had not risen 
By the tell-tale nail's position ! 
And the jovial Billy Woodwell, 
Once, when east to buy some hardware. 
Loaded up a boat with grindstones. 
Thus he argued to his partners: — 
" Everv one must have a grindstone ; 
Rich and poor ot every station 
Needs one of these circular sharpeners — 
What is life, without a grindstone ? 
We must boom the grindstone business ! '" 

Billy Moore, the old-time druggist. 
Drifting into dry goods, notions. 
Hats and caps and ladies' bonnets. 
Had his store oft filled with buyers ; 
By his genial disposition. 
By his long old-time acquaintance, 
Bv the tremor of his eyelids. 
Winked them out of lots of money ! 

When the spring unlocked the rivers 
From old Winter's icy fetters. 
When the wild goose flying northward 
Hinted at the coming springtime, 



THE HIVHH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. ^9 

Visions brought ot birds and violets ; 

Then there came a sound far sweeter. 

Listened for by anxious settlers ; 

Looked for with intensest ionj^inj^. 

Far adown the rapid river 

Came a sound of proionj^ed harshness, 

Somewhat softened by the distance, 

lold the coming of a steamboat 

First arrival of the season ! 

Babes were left in cradles sleeping. 

Stores and oftices deserted. 

Men in haste, with hair disheveled. 

Women, uith sunbonnets swinging. 

Sometimes without shoes or stockings, 

Sped with hastening feet to landing. 

(ilad t(i meet the new ani\al. 

Six da\s trom the Mississippi. 

Linking us to civilization ! 

Ah. the comforts thev have brought us. 

Kice and sugar, tlour and bacon. 

Tea and cotlee. drugs and dr\ goods. 

Hardware, millinerx whisky ! 

How the men ail f \ cd those barrels 

Longed to taste their tier\' contents ; 

How the women longed for bonnets ! 

Wondered if the\\i be becoming ! 

Names ot boats you tain would ask me : 
Here the\' are. trom memory's storehouse 
See if you can recognize them : 
The lone that brought the soldiers : 
Caleb Cope, Add Hine. Kentuck\-. 
John B. Gordon, (ilobe. Luella. 
Clara Hine and Little Morgan. 



40 THE HIVEH BHNl) AND OTHER POEMS. 



Des Moines Belle and Charlie Rod,tj;ers. 

Flora Temple. De Moine City, 

Badt2;er State. Nevada, Alice ; 

And, no doubt, there were some others. 

Which have slipped from cells of memory. 

You remember Isaac Cooper. 

Eneru:etic early settler. 

Dul:; the first well in this county. 

Usinii; as a tool a skillet ; 

Made the first shoes in this township, 

From boot legs and skirt of saddle, 

Becoming, thus, the first " bootlegger." 

Ezra Rathburn. the first preacher. 
Gave first sermon in this section. 
Followed soon by many others. 
Thompson Bird, of blessed memory. 
Broke the Bread of Life in cabins. 
Trudged on foot to meet appointments. 
Sometimes swam his horse through rivers ; 
His was love that waters quenched not. 
For his heart ne'er ceased its singing ; 
His was zeal that darkness dimmed not. 
For his lamp was trimmed and burning. 
J. A. Nash, the much lamented, 
He. the loved of everybody. 
Founded the first Baptist mission. 
In the great flood year of Iowa. 
Eighteen fifty-one. when rivers 
Swelled by rains in torrents falling. 
Crept beyond the banks' contuiing, 
Flooded all the river's lowlands ! 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 41 

Should you ask a Baptist brother 
Of this year ot tribulation. 
If. between this flood and foundinii;. 
There was an\' real connection. 
He a pitxint; look will ^ive \i)u. 
But no word \sili L,Mve in answer. 

Let tile iianie^ ot earl\' settlers 
E'er be wreathed in brightest laurels ; 
Let their memories be cherished ; 
Tears for dead and cheers tor living:;, 
'Ihey have smoothed life's ru^i^ed pathway 
For the coming feet of children : 
They have laid a i^ood foundation 
Broad and deep, tor coming thousands 
V\'ho will tread the>e truittui \alle\s. 
When the ( )ld World, i^aunt and huni^rw 
Turns her lon^in^ e\es to Iowa. 
Land ot corn, wheat, milk and honey. 
Kissed ot (jod. b\ >un and shower ! 

(lolden. ^hiniui:; links of friendship. 
Welded b\ half century's for^in^s. 
In the time when Want and Scarceness 
Were unbidden quests at firesides. 
Year b\' \ear are bein^ broken. 
Like the tinted leaves of Autumn 
When the soft wind breathes upon them. 
They are fallini:;. Thex are passini:; 
To the •• House ot Man\ Mansions I 

Thus we sinti; a son.^ of .gladness, 
Mini:;led with re.u:rets and sorrow. 
For the man\ missintr faces 



42 THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Which were wont to niini2;le with us ; 
Joying in the glad possessions 
They have left to living children. 

There is still an old tradition 

Reaching back into the ages, 

That our Iowa, in creation 

Was the happy Eden Garden, 

Where, in summer, our first parents 

Walked this land in airy costume. 

Isaac Brandt told me this story 

Years ago, when these broad prairies 

Caused his heart to throb with pleasure 

Charmed the eye of all beholders. 

1 believe this sweet tradition. 

1 believe by excavation 

in the soil, so richly laden 

With the food for every nation. 

We mav fmd the bones of Adam ! 



TILL DEATH DO US PART, 

" Where are you going, young man," she said, 

" With pistol at your side? " 
" I am going to ask a fair young girl 

To be my bonnie bride ! " 
" Suppose she refuse," the maiden said ; 

Then he tapped his belt of leather ; 
'• Should she decline with thanks, we'll climb 

The Golden Stairs together ! " 



THE HIVKH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 43 



JUNIOR HYMN. 

Oh. God. we lift our hearts to Thee. 

A little prayiiifj; band. 
To Thee, the source of ever\- ;j;ood. 

Oh. lead us b\ the hand. 
And teach us. b\ '\h\ love so free. 
That bo\s and i^iris ma\' trust in Ihee. 

We come with youthful hearts to-da\ 
To siniz: Thy sonjj;s of praise ; 

To riiee, our father's Ciod to Thee 
Our earnest voices raise. 

And ask that Thou, o'er all this land 

Will bless the Junior (1. H. Band. 

A^ bo\s> the tender mother's ear 
Jo catch the prattler's word. 

Sweeter to her than an\ sound 
R\ which her heart is stirred. 

So ma\ the Savior's heart, to-da\ . 

Be ^Maddened while the Juniors pra\ . 

Oh. JJiou. the source of lite and lii^ht. 

We raise our thoui^hts to I hee ; 
Lead Ihou us on. in works of love. 

Jill we I In face shall see. 
JJieii shall we see. and hear, and know 
WJn (iod the Father loves us so. 



44 THH HlVhH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE FIRST SNOW OF WINTER. 

Whirlint:; and swirlinii; the snow comes down ; 

Beautiful snow with its crystals pure. 
Covering valleys and forests brown. 
Unsightly streets of country and town, 
The first intimation of winter's frown, 

The joy of the rich, the dread of the poor ; 
Oh. cruel snow, with flakes so white. 
Thou art falling on her grave to-night ! 

Silently, softly, the cold flakes heap, 

Fighting for place on the wintrv ground ; 

Shrouding the graves where the flowers sleep. 

Drifting on plain and rocky steep 

In many a curious shape and heap. 
Covering the old and new made mound. 

Oh, winter's snow, with veil so white. 

Thou art resting on his grave to-night ! 

In open fire upon the tiled hearth 

Come forms and images of the misty past. 
And trooping forth comes sharers of the mirth 
In years behind you. when the whole round earth 
Seemed all of jow and came no dearth. 

Nor shadow on your happiness was cast ; 
Nor could you say of hope's young blight. 
The snow is falling on its grave to-night ! 



THE HIVHH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. +S 



D\\nii: are the coals within the .^rate. 

Anon the ashes throii.uh the bars are cast. 
Their hves consumed. Such is the tate 
Of those who live for others, and who wait 
With patience, born of trust, the future state. 

Where Peace and Jo\- review the shadowy past. 
With heart cries stilled, nor chill afrii:;ht. 
Of winter's snow upon the ^na\e'- at nit:;ht ! 



EARLY CALLHl). 

Verv handsome 
Youn<; man. he : 
Father rich as 
Rich could be. 
Luck\ chappie I 

Smoked cii^arettes 

Day and ni^ht ; 

Air tij::ht casket, 
•• Out of slight."' 

Weeping parents. 
When men die for want of sense. 
We sobbiiiii. whisper. " Pro\idence I 



46 THE HIVEF^ BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



WHEN THE MISTS HAVE PASSED. 

For now we see through a glass, darkly.— 1. Cor. xiii, 12. 

How we grope and blindly wander, 

As we pass life's journey through ; 
Judging men and women harshly 

In so many things they do ; 
For our vision is so darkened 

By the veil which hides the day, 
Till the sun shall rise in splendor 

And the mists shall roll away. 

Men we've marched with in life's conflict, 

Touching elbows in the line, 
Bivouacking on the battle fields, 

Kneeling at the self same shrine ; 
But their hearts were veiled and hidden, 

From trusting friends for aye. 
And whose love for them will brighten 

When the mists have passed away. 

There are men in humble stations. 

Toiling for their daily food ; 
We oft pass them by with coldness ; 

They are not understood. 
Bve and bye, when we shall see them 

In the sunlight, we shall say : 
' Would that we had known you better. 

Ere the mists had cleared away." 



THE HIVEH BEND AM) OTHEfi POE.WS. 47 

When our wealth is weighed in balance. 

How strange will be the sight. 
That the fortune of the miser 

Don't outweigh the widow's mite ; 
When a cup of water given. 

In a gentle, loving way. 
Will bring joy unto the giver. 

When the mists have passed awa\' ! 



lo HhNK'Y W \l I Hh'SON. 

Ah. Watterson. xou bra\e old bo\' ! 

We're glad the war is over : 
And now the North and South will live 

In harmonx and clos'er : 
We'll nevermore go round with chips 

Perched on defiant shoulder : 
Nor let the hate of North or South 

Within our bosoms >moulder. 
God bless our Henry Watterson. 

For his patriotic stor\- I 
Three cheers for our New North and South. 

And a •• liger" for "Old (jlorv!" 



48 THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE OLD HAWKEYE BAND. 

Respectfully dedicated to the survivors of 1860. 

Your big State Band is awful nice ; 

Its music is jest ii;rand ; 
But you oughter lieerd, in times gone by, 

The famous " Hawkeye Band." 
Lor', there was harm'ny for the soul. 

And music fer the feet ; 
The verdick of them days was that 
•' Sech music's hard to beat ! " 

A. Hartung was our leader, 

Ed. Kimball blowed the bass, 
Billv Boyd the leadin' cornet. 

And Newt Curl the second place ; 
Hutton, Carter, Houstons, Hussey, 

Bitting, Estabrook and Hoare, 
With Sam Noble second Tuba, 

Made up the jolly corps. 

Our clothes were not as fine as ther'n, 

Ner wore sech handsome caps. 
All trimmed with brass and old gold lace 

And lined with silk, perhaps. 
We wore our best no two alike 

Ner did we ever 'spose 
The crowds which hung around, entranced, 

Hed come to see our clothes ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POE.WS. 49 



You'd oughter seen us fellers march 

Fust time, on a parade ; 
Fer ever\' man tuck his own time 

And acted kind o' 'fraid. 
You see we wasn't used to sech ; 

And from fust man to twelfth. 
He started out onto a gait 

Jest suited to hisseif ! 

We had no big " Drum Major " man 

A whirlin' of a club 
And a struttin' proudly on before 

To the drum's sharp " rub-a-dub." 
We pla\ed the chunes to suit ourselfs 

With all our soul and mind. 
And no one " guyed " a pla\er ef 

He was a bar behind. 

The chunes? Wall, you uill think them (»ld- 

To me the\ "II ne\'er die ; 
The "Java March." the "Soldier's Jo\." 
" Katy Darling." " Nellie Bly," 
' Massa's in the C^old, Cold Ground," 
•• 1 he Long. Long Wear\- Da\-." 
The •• Haw ke\e Polka," '* Polonaise." 

And •■ Darling Nellie (jra\-." 

Ah. well. 1 'spose that ever\thing 

In time will pass awa\' : 
And every band, as well as dog. 

Must also hev their da\- : 
But if 1 am so fort'nate 

As to tramp the golden strand. 
'Twill not be heaven at all to me 

Without that " Hawkeve Band ! " 



so 



THE KIVEH BHND AND OTHER POEMS. 




COMODORE KELLY'S NAVY YARD 



General Kelly's Industrial Army arrived in Des Moines, Sunday, April 29. 1894, 
and finding no means of transportation at hand built scows at the junction of 
Des Moines and Raccoon rivers and embarked on May 9, and continued their 
journey. The wives of sjme of the citizens joined the flt)tilla, but were sent back 
as soon as the fact became known to the Commodore. The " angels " alluded to 
were two women who joined the arm\- at Council Bluffs, and shared its fortunes. 
They had state rooms on the " Flag Ship." 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 51 



THE FklEMJ IN NEED. 

Bear them i^^ently. bear them ii;entl\'. dear river of Des Moines, 
Down through our much loved Iowa, where your sparkling waters join 
The Mississippi river, with its calm majestic sweep. 
As it runs its race with patience to swell the vasty deep, 
Where the ocean will receive it, send the waters back again 
In soft, refreshin^^ >h(»\\ers, to gladden Iowa's plain. 

How sweet of nou. dear river, when our folks began to shout 
That " KelK "-« hungr\' arm\' had worn their welcome out ; " 
W'hfii railroads, so aggressive and so tond of the " long haul,\ 
Would not even furnish "hog rates," — or an\ rates at all; 
How sweet of you, I sa\ again, to bare your breast and say : 
•• Come, rest upon this bosom ! Accept this shining way ! " 

( )h. sandbars! Hide xour faces now. and be \e water-veiled, 
I'litil this fleet of working men ha\'e past \()ur presence sailed ; 
And snags, v\ill \\>u please clear the track and let the navy go. 
Unhindered and untrammeled, on its winding wa\ and slow? 
C^rab apple blossoms, when \ou can, perfume the gentle breeze. 
To mingle with grape blossoms' scent bow low. ye willow trees ! 

Be kind to them. oh. ri\cr ! Encourage them to think 
1 hat it's good for outside cleansing, as well as for a drink : 
And shore sands, be \e softened, where the gentle ri\'er flows, 
As the softest beds and pillows where the rich man may repose ; 
And silver moon, unclouded, give them thy gentle ray. 
That b\- sunlight and b\ moonlight, they may hasten on their 
waw 



52 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

On the hit^h and holy duty on which 
.^^Hd^l ^'^ shake the Tree of Fortune -and the 

yl^^lK^li Don't delay them, little Eddyville, at your 

.j^^^^^E '"'j A ^ H j^' P'l' them up with grub and move them 

^^^piPwii^^ Keep Al Swalm clean off the Flag Ship — 

AL SWALM. lest to all our grief, 

They should take him down to Washington as a captive Indian 
Chief ! 

This world can not he equal made, no matter how we try ; 

For some must eat the stale brown bread, while others " swipe 

the pie ! " 
And it is not unnatural that the common tars should roar, 
That " Kelly hugs the angels, while we have to hug the shore ! " 
Ottumwa, why be timid ? Let General Kelley land 
His fleet and take collection to the music of his band ; 

His tars are very harmless — you need not fear your lives — 
Leave your chicken coops wide open — but fasten up your wives! 
I always thought 'twas uniforms which charmed a woman's gaze — 
But brass buttons are " not in it " compared to pretty ways ; 
For women are intuitive and maybe this is how 
They see the noble purpose which wreaths each manly brow. 

Keosauqua, give them welcome, with provisions without end — 
They'll need it, these brave sailors, when thev voyage round that 

bend 
Of fourteen miles and over. Don't mention it, alack ! 
Lest they fear there is no ending and try to paddle back 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POE.WS. 



53 



Just pass them o'er those rapids, on, past oM Bentonsport, 
To the twelve foot dam at Bonaparte, for here there'll be some 
sport 

In ^ettinj^ the fleet over. For the boys it will be fun : 

And it's altogether likely that there'll be more d ns than one • 

Then Farmington will pass the boys aloni:: the river tine. 

And Missouri then will share the work of keepini:; them in line ; 

Perhaps, too. in the wa\- of feed, she'll lend a hand at that. 

And while the .tz;lee club sings a song. Kellv will pass the hat. 

Bear them oh. so gentK'. river sweet, let nothing interfere 

To cause the men or " angels," to shed a single tear. 

Oh. favoring winds I ( )h. current strong! Bring to them all 

good luck. 
And land them on the border line, tour miles from Keokuk ! 




54 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



VERNAL LONGINGS. 

It's yet a bit too early to plan for comin' spring, 

An' yet I'm gittin' anxious to see wild flowers once more, 
A noddin' in the sunshine, while the bees upon the wing, 

Sip eagerly from morn till night the honey that they store 
For winter's use, when storm clouds lower and frost is in the sky ; 

There's wisdom in jest sech a course, as it would seem to me — 
Far there's lots of us poor workin' folks a standin' idly by, 

Who wish now they had taken some pointers from the bee. 

I'm hungerin' an' a thirstin' to hear the robin's note 

At sunset, on the topmost twig of his favorite elm tree ; 
As he carols forth his gladness as to almost split his throat. 

Don't you think he could give pointers in praise to you an' me ? 
Whene'er I hear a robin sing, I alius have to smile 

At the earnest wav he tackles it an' carries it along — 
I haint so fond of music, yet 1 b'lieve I'd walk a mile 

To hear his '' Peep-kuk-kill-'em-cure-'em-give->m-physic " song. 

I want to see the tender grass on sunny slopes a sproutin'. 

An' comin' up to rest the eve from winter's robe of white. 
An' hunt fer dandelion greens an' slowly walk about in 

Shirt sleeves -an' dream of bacon, which is my heart's delight; 
Er else set out of doors on the lee side of the woodpile 

An' watch the hens a scratchin', with their trim an' yeller legs, 
With a sharp look out fer bugs ; an' 1 alius have a good smile 

As my thoughts mix with their cackle, of future ham an' eggs. 



THE HIVER BENT) AND OTHER POE.WS. %^ 

The hen, as I have sized her up, is a very honest bird ; 

Her voice has no ^reat compass but she has some pretty wavs ; 
An' of all the farmyard son'i;sters that ever 1 have heard, 

1 believe that Tm enamored, mostly, of her recent lavs ! 
Just think of it ! Our Ha\vke\e hens, when busily at work, 

increase our working capital a million, every year; 
She attends no " Hen Conventions '* an' was never known to 
shirk, 

While she sini^s her modest anthems our hunixrv hearts to cheer. 



Yes. I'm Lclad the winter's breakin' an' the wild 5j;oose north a 
tlvin' 

In his harrow-shaped procession, marked on the softened skv. 
An' hear the honkin' note as the day is slowly dyin', 

lellin' us ot tlowin' rivers, as he passes slowlv bv. 
Old Winter ! We'll forgive ycni, an' fer^it \-our frosty pinchin' 

In the joy of your departure an' your later meltin' wa\s : 
An' our hearts beat hij^h with hope of the pleasures weTl be 
sippin'. 

When Nature, resurrected, joins us in a h\inn ot praise. 



So I'm ion.^in' fer the sprini:: time, with a deep an" earnest loni;; : 
When winter's woes \\ ill fade away an' tlowers take their place ; 

When bird^ in woods and meadows, will cheer us with a son^ 
That will make us all fer^it we've met Sorrow, face to face. 

Old Earth is tipping; to the south to meet the summer's sun ; 

'* Old Cilory." with her starry folds, waves o'er our land to-dav ; 

Have faith in (iod the Father and with each dut\- braveK' done. 
We need fear no i:;reat disaster to our loved America. 



56 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



k Ea5t:ef DaijI 




'* The swellins; buds thy coming wait; 

The puss willow with feath'ry fronds, 
''' Lightly, in limpid streams and ponds 
Dip eager boughs with joy elate : 
Oh, Easter Day ! 
Dear Easter Day ! 

Oh. Easter Day ! 
The violet blue, with eyes intent 
Upon the shining track above, 
Gazes with an unuttered love. 
To mark the way our Savior went : 

Oh, Easter Day ! 

Dear Easter Dav ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. =i7 



A DREAM. 

1 had a funny dream last nip;ht — 

( I wonder if 'twas true ? ) 
It came in such a curious way, 

That I must tell it you. 
An evening had been spent in bliss 

Amon^^ some maidens fair. 
With sparklin^f e\es and rosy cheeks, 

And ever\' shade (4 hair. 

The time how spent, you ask. m\ friend. 

In such a jolly crowd .'' 
Pro<;ressive Euchre?" Guess a.^ain. 
"Whist ? " " Conversation loud ? " 
Ja\\> moved at rei^ular intervals 

"Ti^ true, but lips were dumb 
From cherub mouths came not a sound — 

1 he\ all were cheuini^ ^aim ! 

The ii:\\\ 1 l()\ed was in the throni;. 

And soon 1 sought her out - 
We walked amid the tlowers and trees, 

And everywhere, about ; 
I told her all my heart, and asked, 
•'Will you m\ wife become?" 
She deeplx sighed she pressed m\- hand 

But kept on chewint:: ,i:;um ! 



58 THE HiVER BEND AND OTHEH POEMS. 

" Joy of my heart ! " 1 said, at lensi;th. 
" Queen of my soul ! My pride ! 
Breathe in my ear the happy dav 

When you will be my bride ! " 
1 waited answer, while my heart 

Beat like a muffled drum : 
She heaved an able-bodied sigh — 

And calmlv chewed her gum ! 



" Oh, name the happy day ! " I cried, 
" And let me call thee mine ; 
My fortune at thy feet 1 lay — 

1 worship at thy shrine ! " 
My fervor seemed to startle her. 

And, almost overcome, 
I kissed her mantling cheek, while she 

Continued chewing gum ! 



Oh, glorious day, that made me now 

So happy in my choice — 
1 answered all the questions plump — 

My heart was in my voice. 
She nodded an assent to hers — 

The preacher was struck dumb — 
1 hardly could believe my eyes — 

She still was chewing gum ! 



THE RIVEJi BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



M\- dream then changed — it seemed to me 

That she had passed away 
To that bri^^ht land, where sunshine holds 

An undisputed sway. 
The vision brightened as I gazed 

into the world to come 
Lo ! there she stood, with liand-picl\ed saints. 

Forever chewing gum ! 



THE FAMILY THOl'CiHT, 

A tear clung to her e\elids wet ; 

Her heart was all distraught 
Slie'd quarrelled with her husband, dear. 

These souls with single thought. 
He wished the thought for base ball rules. 

And she, on the contrarv'. 
Desired to use it for herself. 

In new st\ie milliner\' : 
Thus, often is life's battle fought 
R\ mariying without second thought ! 



60 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



GENERAL JAMES M. TUTTLE. 

The hero cahnly sleeps ; 
Nor cannon's roar, nor music's sweetest breath 
Can now disturb his slumbers, while his death 

A nation sadly weeps. 

Hero of Donelson, 
Iowa, her tribute, lays upon thy grave ; 
Her torn and war-stained banners wave 

Over her fallen son ! 

Ah, that brave charge again, 
At Donelson, while a world wondering stood 
At the great gallantry and hardihood 

Of Iowa's brave men. 

Hope of the Nation they. 
As through showers of leaden hail and shell. 
Never men marched so bravely, nor so well. 

As Second Iowa ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



61 



Up, higher 1 Hifi;her still. 
Silently, but sureK'. the\- climb ! The\' mount 
Where earthworks frown and Glory deeds recount. 

Led by this hero's will. 

First on the earthworks. Now 
Cheering to deeds of valor th\' brave men ; 
Earthworks and <i;k)r\- won together, when 

Victorv' crowned th\- brow ! 

So long as sun upon 
Our baiuier with stars undimmed, shall light 
With glints and gleams, so shall th\' menu>r>' be bright 

Hero of Donelson ! 




62 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Respectfully dedicated to the Second Iowa Infantry. 

Scatter flowers, beautiful flowers, 

On the graves 

Of the braves ; 
Sleep they sweetly here, enbalmed by many tears ; 
Whose brave deeds grow brighter with the passing years, 
As higher on the scroll of fame each name appears, 

Written in blood. 

Scatter flowers, choice spring flowers. 

Where they sleep. 

As we weep 
Tears of gratitude to those who bravely wrought 
Out a Nation's destiny ! How poor is thought 
To tell the great blessing to a people fraught 

By such sacrifice. 

Cover them with flowers, unfading flowers, 

O'er the head 

Of the dead ; 
Dying, that no star upon our country's crest 
Might be dimmed nor lost. Heeding the high behest, 
That one flag should wave o'er North, South, East and West, 

Whate'er the cost ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 63 

Cover them with flowers — Immortelles; 

For the dead tears. 

For the living, cheers ; 
Ah. those heroes of Shiloh and Donelson. 
Where waved first our flag on rebel earthworks won. 
While a Nation watched, waiting to shout, " Well done. 

Brave bo\s in Blue ' " 

Scatter choice flowers, Memorx's flowers, 

Ever\- May, 

hi memor\" 
Of those who. when called, counted life not dear. 
But laid it gladly down withcnit a fear : 
While our Nation lives, shall we not each year 

Bedeck their graves ? 



JULY. 

Oh, Jul\' sun, let up. let up ; 

Before you bake us brown. 
Or dri\'e us to the lakes and woods. 

Far, tar awa\- from town 1 
The sun said, with c;iloric smile : 
" C^)me. listen now. my dears : 
It I don't work this month, what would 

You do for roasting ears .-^ " 



64 THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



TO MARGARET. 

Merry, little dancing feet, 

Eyes with tint of heaven's blue. 
With her little ways so sweet, 

Joyous all the long day through ; 
Sometimes wayward, sometimes gay, 

As the notion takes my pet. 
Smiles now chasing frowns away 

From the face of Margaret. 

Winsome little lass, may thou. 

Guileless in thy glee and fun. 
Ne'er to Sorrow's mandate bow, 

Nor walk thorny paths upon. 
Roses blooming at thy feet. 

With the dew of heaven wet. 
Are to me not half so sweet 

As my little Margaret. 

Oh, Thou, who dost guard and guide 
Little ones through sun and shade. 

Keep her ever at Thy side ; 

Let her hand in Thine be laid ! 

May the sunshine she imparts 
Ne'er be dimmed by a regret ; 

Loved is she by many hearts ; 

Little fair haired Margaret. 



THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 6^ 



FREE CURRENCY. 

Do not quarrel ; do not fret : 
Not the thing to do, \ou bet ; 
Better take a sight of chaff. 
Pass it b\- with quiet laugh. 
Than work yourself into a pet 
And be caught in passion's net ! 

Do not quarrel ; do not scold 
Smiles are silver ; laughs are gold I 
What a grand world this would be 
With such a free currency ! 
Better smile with e\elids wet. 
Than fall into passion's net ! 

Do not quarrel nor complain 
Life's made up of sun and rain ; 
Touch a life with rain or snow — 
How the sweet heart-tlowers grow ! 
There's peace for those who do not get 
Tangled up in passion's net. 

Do not murmur or repine ; 
Hope ! "lis like a rare old wine ! 
Hope ! There's plenty and to spare ; 
Hope ! 'Tis rising e\er\where ! 
Better, though, its star should set, 
Than fall into passion's net ! 



66 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 






Rint,^ out, ye bells, on Chrisdnas Day. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 67 



CHRISTMAS BELLS. 

F^ini; out, \e bells, on Christmas Da\ . 

In happ\ . jo\i)Lis strain : 
Let all the world with them rejoice. 

For the day has come a^ain. 
When to a waiting world there came, 

Ihe lon^ looked, wished for birth 
Of ( )ne who came of low estate. 

To bless the expectant earth. 

Briiiii h(ill\ berries, crimson red. 

Pine, tir and mistletoe. 
Let all the children's hearts rejoice. 

For in the Ciolden Loni; A^o. 
He was born, the Wonderful. 

Counselor, on earth to dwell. 
Walkin.Lj Judean streets about, 

God with us Emanuel. 

I've ij:a/.ed upon the starr\' host, 

And wondered which the star 
(iod honored thus, to be the ii;uide 

Oi Wise Men trom atar. 
How bright it must haw shone that nij^ht. 

Conscious that its moving ray, 
Would lead the seekers to the place 

Where the infant Jesus lav ! 



68 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



And then its work was just half done, 

For now, on Bethlehem's plain. 
The shepherds saw a wondrous sight. 

And heard the grand refrain : 
" Peace on Earth, good will to men ; " 

Sung by the Angel Choir, 
While all the sky was now ablaze 

With bright, celestial fire. 

"Fear not; for unto you is born," 

The lingering angel said, 
" Christ, the Lord, in Bethlehem, 
And in a manger laid ! " 
Then lo ! the star to them appeared 

At once, with cheering ray. 
And stood above the stable, where 
The sleeping Savior lay. 

Oh, Earth, bring forth thy frankincense. 

Thy myrrh, thy hoarded gold, 
Thy adoration for this King, 

Whose coming was foretold ! 
Not all the wealth that thou canst bring. 

Nor treasures yet to be, 
Can equal in Love's balances. 

The love He has for thee ! 

The star, and what became of it. 
Your wond'ring hearts would ask ? 

Perhaps God sent it to its place. 
Having fulfilled its task. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



69 



May be. in His .^reat love for us. 

He caused it to tj;row dim. 
That we mi^ht look beyond the star. 

And worship onl\' Him ! 

Oh. j^lorious star ! Oh, t^lorious thread 

Which binds us all in love ! 
Never before, such Christmas Gift 

From lovin^^ hands above : 
So ma\ our hearts be full of joy, 

With music, uifts and mirth, 
l^ejoicinu in this da\- of davs 

Blessed bv a Savior's birth. 




70 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



YOU KNOW IT. 

To smile is better tlian to frown. 
For smoothin.y; ruffled feelings down. 

You know it ! 
Then why lament at every ill ? 
Is not the old world rolling still. 
And sunshine kissing every hill ? 

You know it ! 

Men can't redeem the minutes past, 
Nor lift the shadows on them cast ; 

You know it ! 
But on life's road of weariness, 
As footsore, tired pilgrims press, 
A warm hand-clasp will often bless ; 

You know it ! 

Ambitions never reach their goal ; 
Nor fill the hunger of the soul ; 

You know it ! 
I knew a king a conqueror, too, 
Who sat and cried with loud boo-hoo. 
Not having further work to do ! 

You know it ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POE.WS. 71 



Man never reached the hiiJ:hest shelf. 
By hving solely for himself ; 

You know it I 
Kin<; Solomon, with all his pride 
Of wealth, and man\- wives beside, 
Confessed he was not satisfied ! 

You know it ! 

One day a herald will appear. 

And leave a message all must hear : 

You know it ! 
Then, ver\' softlv. one will tread. 
Where lowly, lowl\- lies vour head. 
And sa\-. •• Hf Idwd iiic : He is dead ! 

You know it I 



MISAPPRHHENSION. 

He read the book with threat surprise 

And said. •• How she abused her e\es ! 
She threw them at the frescoed ceiling : 

They fell as if the\- had no feelini; ; 
Then rested them on the cool lati:oon. 

And brou,i:;ht them back. ah. none too soon 
For with a cr\- and .<2;lad embrace, 

Thev fastened on her lover's face ! " 



72 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



A THANKSGIVING SUGGESTION. 

The parson had preached from the beautiful text, 

" Little children, love one another ; " 

And he told of the mansions now being prepared 

By Jesus, the elder brother. 
And he spoke of the River of Life, bright and clear, 

And the songs the redeemed will sing ; 
And the palms they will wave and the crowns they will cast 

At the feet of Jesus, the King. 

And oh, best of all, the friends we have loved — 

Not lost — but just gone before. 
Who are waiting to greet us with fondest embrace. 

When we reach that evergreen shore : 
Where arms will be twined in a loving embrace 

Round the dear ones we've loved in this life ; 
Where children as brothers and sisters will stand. 

With united husband and wife. 

And he spoke of the love which Jesus imparts — 
That he smiles from his bright home on high, 

When we show to each other the love which he showed — 
For a lost world to suffer and die. 
"■ Oh, that wonderful love ! " the good parson said, 

" If you have it, my sister, my brother. 

Let it flow in good works ; for as Christ has loved you. 
So ought ye to love one another ! " 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 73 

Now Widower Gripem had lingered behind ; 
" Oh, parson," he said, " tell me where 
That beautiful place is. 1 loni:; much to know. 
For 1 feel 'twould be sweet to be there ! '" 
" Next Thursday's Thanks^ivin*;,"' the ^^ood parson said. 
" Now there is our poor Widow Gray ; 
Her larder is empty; her hearthstone is cold — 
She should have a ^ood dinner that day." 

'* Send up C(»al and p()tat()e>. with Hour and rice : 

A turkey for roast i n ti - and tea. 
Cranberries for sauce, su^ar-plums tor the boys 

And oh. how happy they'll be ! 
And then in the evening be sure that \(>u i:o 

For with propriet\' sureK \(>u ma\ 
And read one ot David's most comforting psalms. 

Then kneel with the tamil\' and pra\.*' 

The advice was well taken and oh. such a pra\er. 

And oh, such a vision ot bliss ! 
For peace, like a river, stole into his soul - 

And the widow's hand stole into his ! 
When robins were sin^inu; as vou ma\' have j^uessed. 

In the sprinii; time, when the weather was bri<j;ht, 
A wedding fee fell to the «;ood parson's share 

Now, pra\-, don't \-ou think he was ri.^ht ? 



74 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



LOVELY MAY. 

She stands in Summer's (gateway, 

Lovely May, 
With apron full of blossoms, 

Bright and gay ; 
Bringing showers, bright spring flowers, 
Birds singing in green bowers, 
Making sweet the passing hours, 

Every day. 

Earth is brighter for thy coming. 

Gentle May ; 
Our hearts lighter, faces brighter. 

For thy stay . 
For thou wilt our hearts prepare 
For thy sister's coming, rare 
June, with rose-garlanded hair. 

On the way ! 




THH i-i.ooi). is^;:. 

()h. iiKinth ot buds and roses. 

( )t lose and niaii\ flowers. 
When loua. her bridal robes 

Puts, 'mid sun and showers. 
She »j:reets you with her moistened eye 

BeMevini:; that there still is 
Some chances \et tor i!;ro\\ini:; crops. 

As well as water lilies ! 




THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 77 



THE SUNDAY SCHOOL'S FAREWELL. 



Read at the Farewell Banquet, given by the Central Presbyterian Church and con- 
gregation of Des Moines, to Dr. and Mrs. Howard Ag;new Johnston, November lb, 1893. 



We all know just how hard it is to say the word " Good Bye ; " 
And '"' Farewell," softK' spoken, brings the moisture to the eye ; 
Often, a close hand-clasp, while the head is turned awa\ . 
Will express the feelinj^s better than an\ word that one could sa\'. 

Speech may sometimes be siKer. when the heart is liii;ht and tree, 
But to-ni^ht the golden silence would be better still tor me ; 
But, as you have insisted on a speech trom me in rlnine. 
My coinage will be very tree and silver\' in its chime. 

" The Sunda\' School." That is the theme 1 am to talk about : 
" Our Sunda\- School." Dear friends. 1 think, without a doubt. 
You know that in this .^dorious work tor \ears I've borne a part. 
And it's easy, quite, to speak ot thin,u:s that lie close to one's 
heart. 

I sometimes let m\- memor\- travel back to '^^. 

To the ancient church on Fourth street a bus\- little hive ; 

Where teachers taui:;ht the children, and proved by earnest tones, 

That the hive was full of working bees, with few, if anv drones. 



78 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Whene'er i think of those old times my heart is strangely stirred. 
And 1 always take my hat off when I think of Father Bird, 
And his companion in the good work, his true and loving wife, 
Who still holds up the banner he fought under all his life. 

And what do Presbyterians owe such women and such men, 
For our lamp, now burning brightly, which flickered feebly then ? 
Oh, answer it, my people, upon the bended knee, 
That our lamp may burn so brightly, that all the world may see ! 

Our Sunday School. How large 'tis grown ! it makes me ancient 

seem. 
As 1 look at its beginnings, it's almost like a dream, 
To see the girls and boys, who have sat upon my knees. 
Wearing their gold-bowed spectacles and sporting families ! 

And speaking of our girls and boys of marriageable ages, 
Why not let the old historian record upon his pages 
That you'll follow their example, while there yet is room. 
And give your Pastor, ere he goes, a matrimonial boom ? 

It does not seem to be the thing to cheat him of his fee. 
Leaving his wife to vainly ask, " What shall the harvest be ? " 
I am inclined to blame the boys, for such a state of things ; 
For lack of courage, or, mayhap, a lack of wedding rings ! 

For our girls are so well grounded in the Scriptures that they can 
Give an answer very promptly to every asking man ! 
Our Sunday School is sorry — but there's sweetness in the cup. 
At the thought of how our preacher will stir Chicago up ; 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 79 

For after searchiriij; all the countr\-. this biii; church had to join 
hi the caliini:; of a pastor from the city of Des Moines. 
We bow to fate most gracefully and think it for the best, 
That Chicaji;o should pay homaiz;e to talent farther west. 

We will miss him in the son.ij:s weVe sun^. in which he bore a 

part : 
But he'll never get so far away but they'll echo in his heart. 
We will not say farewell just now. but sin.<; the sweet refrain, 
'* God be with vou, Cjod be with vou. until we meet a^ain." 



PRECAITION. 

My dear.'' he said in i:;entle tones. 

" 1 cannot, as expected. 

Buy for you the seal skin sacque 

Which \(tu ha\'e just selected. 
You see I'm icettini; on in years. 

And sa\ it with a sii^^h. 
That o\d men :ire, as Solomon said. 

Afraid of all thintrs high ! " 



80 THE KIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE KICKER'S FUNERAL. 

A kicker was kicking his very last kick — 
For he'd kicked, ( it was one of his ways, ) 

At his friends, at his neighbors, his fate and his town. 
And thus, finally ended his days. 

It was not his sudden departure at all. 

That saddened everyone's face ; 
But as they remembered his acts while on earth. 

Felt sorry for " 'tother place ! " 

So they buried him out in the wild, wild woods. 

In a deep, deep hole in the ground, 
Where the straddle-bug straddled, and the grasshopper hopped. 

And the tumble-bug walked over his mound. 

But some friends who admired his ways in this life. 

In numbers then gathered around. 
To descant on his virtues and moisten with tears 

Of sorrow, the newly made mound. 

When remarks were in order, a wiggle-worm came, 
And said, as he wiggled about — 
" This brother of mine, when a tight place was found. 
Always wiggled so carefully out ! " 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 81 

A raven which listened with countenance i2;rave. 

As he sat on the hmb of an oak. 
With awe-stricken voice said. " I part with ret^ret. 

With him who first taui,^ht me to croak ! " 

A sorrowing mule then discoursed to the crowd: — 
" My friends, it makes me quite sick. 
To part with this brother and teacher as well ; 
For 'twas he who t'lrst taught me to kick ! " 

A hog which was rooting a little way off. 
Came forward and said with deep feeling : 
'* For the t'lrst time in lite 1 am mourning tor one 
Who surpassed me in grunting and squealing ! " 

A crawfish came cautiousK' out of his hole. 
And exclaimed after some reflection - 
" Alas my brother ! For years and for years. 
We've progressed in the same direction ! " 

These eloquent speakers then glided away, 

Having spoken their pieces like sages; 
And the " Kicker." it he is not asked for a cent. 

Will slumber in peace there for ages ! 



82 THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



RETURN OF THE PRODIGALS. 

We've jest got back to Iowa — tell you, we've had it rough; 
Of hunting up new countries, we've had jest about enough ; 
You bet, me and AAirandy is a pretty seedy lot. 
But it's good sometinifs to thank the Lord fer what ye hav'n"t 
got! 

We kinder got dissatisfied with Iowa years ago ; 
Mirandy's lungs were powerful weak to stand the wind and snow ; 
An' while we was a thinkin' there came along that drought, 
While Mirandy kept a coughin' and a talkin' 'bout the south. 

We'd heerd that Kansas wus the land where milk and honey 

flowed 
So free, that we could dip it up, fer anything we knowed ; 
With land jest fer the askin', and climit throwed in free — 
Mirandy cleared her throat and said, '" That's jest the place fer 

me ! " 

So we moved down into Kansas, in eighteen eighty-eight, 

And built a little sod house and settled down to wait 

Till our corn was in the roastin' ear. There came with hummin' 

sound, 
An army of grasshoppers — an' they et to the ground ! 




She CoUK^heJ a penitential c.uuh an' whispered -■ I,.wa l' - 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



8S 




"So we moved down into Kansas." 

Next Near we planted corn a^in. Tell \er. upon my word. 
A hot wind swept the State and iett our crop like Jonah's ^ourd 
Withered in a sini^le ni^ht 1 lell \e. we had the blues. 
And wondered what Miranda"^ pap would sa\ about the news. 

He'd wanted us to come back home, and said, without a doubt 
He could teed us cheaper there, than by sendin" projuce out ; 
While we was a hesitatin' 'bout what we'd better do. 
We had a revelation which thrilled us throu.^h and through. 

We went to preachin" meetin* 'bout fourteen miles away 
An' I'll not fori:;et that sermon up to \u\ d\in' da\' : 
The preacher told about a bo\' who left his father's roof 
With all his i^oods and chattels, for his own use and behoof. 



Goin' west to speckerlate he soon became dead broke ; 

Then friends, like cash or bonds and sich, all vanished like the 

smoke ; 
He '• took a tumble to himself." after he'd had a cr\'. 
And said. *' M\- father's hired men ha\-e better irrub than 1 ! " 



86 



THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



So home went, in want and rao;s he could not well conceal — 
Had royal welcome, interspersed with fiddlin' - -and veal! 
The preacher paused a minit- then, with voice uplifted hi^h, 
Said, " Return, ye prodigals, return, for wherefore will you die. 

By eatin' husks, that don't digest, and wearin' rags of sin ? " 
My eyes were over-brimmin' an' my head begin to spin ; 
I turned 'round to Mirandy, to see what she would say ; 
She coughed a penitential cough, an' whispered — " Iowa ! " 



Her pap sent on some money, an' she sold her weddin' ring, 
An' we jest lit out fer Iowa, where corn is alius king ! 
Mirandy's cough ? You think it's strange, and, curious, perhaps — 
She hasn't barked a single time, sence gittin' back to pap's. 

Change of climit? I guess not — i rayther am inclined 

To think that 'stid of climit, she has a change of mind ! 

We left our " good bye " on the walls of the house we couldn't 

sell — 

" No coal, no wood, no water — and jest a half a mile from 

h-1 ! " 







THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 87 



AMtklCA'S CKOWN. 

Let the mse bloom for Old England, 

Shamrock tor Ireland k'^ovn'. 
For Scotland her bold thistle. 

France, the lilw white a-- --now ; 
But as for proud America. 

Where Plent\- tills the horn. 
And pours out an unendini:; stream. 

Crown her with (iolden Corn I 
In hopes of coming \ears to see 

Her crownintxs will far richer be ! 



88 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



TO A NOVEMBER DANDELION. 



Note. — Tacitus Hussey, the poet, was met on the street yesterday, wearing in 
his button-hole a beautiful dandelion. This flower v/as picked in the high school 
yard yesterday, a most peculiar time of the year for such a growth. A poem on 
the rare occurrence may be expected. — Iowa State Register, November 16, 1894. 



And dost thou bloom, dear little tlower of May, 

When the swift-winged bird, glad, southward flies, 
When bees have left the clover ; when the day 

Is veiled in smoke, and cold the Autumn skies? 
How sweet of thee, dear star-faced Taraxacum, 

To dare the dangers of the snow and frost ; 
Braving the season of the Chrysanthemum, 

And show thy smiling face at any cost ! 

Dear, bright dandelion ! Thy name, whoever gave. 

Unrolls thy character to us as written scroll ; 
" Dandy " suggests thy rich attire, and " lion," brave ; 

So, " Dandelion," one sweet, euphonious whole. 
Dear waif ! Knowest thou not that flower and bird 

Have flown and died, by wise laws of Nature fixed ? 
Soundless the woods — nor "cuckoo's" note is heard. 

Since the frreat " snow storm " of November sixth ! 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 89 

Untimely bloom ! 1 take thee to my heart 

in love, remembering happier scenes ; 
A hungering world supposes it the part 

Of dandelions to bloom in spring — " for greens ! " 
Oh, bride of May. with hoar frost for thy bed ! 

Engraven on our hearts, thv lessons given : 
In weather cold or hot. ma\- it be said. 

We did our best as in the sight of hea\en I 



A SUU'PKISE. 

I sought for Pleasure far and wide ; 

" Oh, Happiness ! " I said : 

Come share m\- lot : be thou m\ bride. 

And let us quickly wed ! " 
Just then stern Duty caught my eve. 

And drew me to her side 
And said : "' Fair Pleasure soon will die. 

But 1 will e'er abide." 
Then I wed I)ut\- and eftsoons 1 saw 

That 1 had Pleasure for a mother-in-law ! 



90 THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



MEMORY'S SONG. 

On the hanks of the Wabash, so bright, I was born. 

In a cabin of logs, 'mid pumpkins and corn. 

My heart turns back as my birthplace I view, 

For I love her grand forests and people — don't you? 

CHORUS. 
Then sing, Hoosiers, sing, with hearts glad and free. 
For with each rolling year she seems dearer to me. 

With hearts full of good cheer, we've gathered to-day. 
To exchange our kind greetings and in gratitude lay 
A wreath of affection and love, twined about, 
For the State that has sent so many good people out. 

We love thy old forests, dear State of our birth, 
The tallest and thickest of any on earth ; 
Thy hills and thy valleys, and rivers so clear, 
And all thy old memories we'll ever hold dear. 

If vou take bright sea shell from its home on the lea. 
Wherever it goes it will sing of the sea ; 
So we, like the sea shells, thus greet you to-day, 
And sing for our old home, forever and aye. 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 91 



HOOSIER ECHOES. 

I reckon I have heard, diirin" m\- lon.^ term of lite. 

Most all the music nature has in store. 
From a WhippoVwilTs lamentin' to a brass band's noisy strife. 

The Guinea hen and cyclone's fearful roar. 
It is only when m\ mem'rv ^oes a calahootin' back 

To the indiann\' forests, urand and tree. 
That there's jest one missin" card from out ot mem*r\ *s pack — 

The ho^ call, "' Pii,^-o-o-e-e. Pij^-o-o-e-e. Pi^-o-o-e-e ! " 

M\- ! How a teller's mem'ry ^its back to them old da\s. 

When the woods were all a^low with Nature's tints. 
On the crisp an" trost\' mornin's, wlien the mists bei:;an to raise, 

An' the coolin' winds of autumn i,Mve us hints 
riiat old winter was a comin' : but near a bi^ corn pile. 

Stood an artist, with a voice like >oundin' sea, 
Who woke the mornin' echoes, and all sleepers for a mile. 

With his loud •• Pi<;-o-o-e-e. Pii:;-o-o-e-e. Pi<i-o-o-e-e ! " 

Tlien. mebbe, 'cross the clearin*. would come the rin^nn' sound. 

Which trembled on the circumambient air. 
Where a neighbor was a callin' to all the countr\' round. 

An' announcin' to his hoij;s that he was there ! 



92 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Then, one by one, his neighbors took up the ii;lad refrain 

In chorus grand, it alius seemed to me ; 
An' with full inflated lungs, they echoed back again, 

The well-known cry, " Pig-o-o-e-e, Pig-o-o-e-e, Pig-o-o-e-e ! " 

« 

An' the hogs ! You'd oughter seen 'em, as with one accord they 
broke 

For the feedin' places, gruntin' as they ran, 
A crowdin', an' a pushin', an' a squealin' like some folk 

Who sometimes lead the office-seekin' van ! 
They're music-lovin' critters, them Indianny swine, 

An' hog callers there are alius in demand ; 
Their voices are their fortunes, an' they are artists in their line. 

For 'tis music, ears an' stomach, understand. 

When the sun, through haze and smoke, blotted out the mornin' 
stars. 

From log cabin, mayhap, stepped a maiden fair. 
With milkpail on her arm, trippin' to the pastur' bars. 

While the mornin' breeze toyed idly with her hair ; 
An' to the " pig-o-o-e-e " cry she'd add her treble notes, 

(While the meek-eyed cows their heads expectant toss;) 
With melody as sweet as e'er came from robins' throats. 

She'd carol forth, " Sook-boss, Sook-boss, Sook-boss ! " 



There's professors in our schools, who read Latin books all day. 

And talk in Greek to students at their work. 
Who could not call " pig-o-o-e-e " in an enticin' way 

Ef their families was a sufferin' fer pork ! 
An' there's graduatin' women all over our Hawkeve State, 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 93 

Whose education caused their parents loss. 
Who speak of cows as " wild-eyed critters,'' and. oh, sad to relate. 
Know nothinfj; of the music of " Sook-boss ! " 

1 ^it so tarnal tired of brass bands, an* soundin' bells. 

Piano jin^lin's, mandolins and sich. 
That 1 lon^ for quiet rest in Nature's wooded dells, — 

Or a mountain top Tm not a carin' which ! 
Tliere comes to me in dreams leastwise, when 1 can sleep — 

Sound of bells of purest silver. pur}:;ed of dross ; 
An' it alius takes the form, in its sweet, resistless sweep, 

Of the musical " pij^-o-o-e-e " and " sook-boss ! 



RISING CiENIUS. 

A habit, Ebenezer had. 

Of sleepini,^ late o\ mornini^s ; 
And this he'd do in spite of fate. 

And man\ wifel\' warninj^s. 
She ^ave him \east cakes well disguised. 

As that idea seemed to seize her. 
And had no trouble after that 

To *' raise her Ebenezer ! " 



94 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



JUBILEE YEAR. 

Well, this is " jub'lee year" for sure — see how they're coming 

back 
To Iowa, the garden spot, where there's never any lack 
Of food for every hungry man — no questioning 'bout creed — 
Our Iowa stands with hands outstretched to give to all who need. 

And " Party Prodigals " there are, who, catching the refrain 
Of harmony in the G. O. P., are flocking back again ; 
The funniest thing about it all, is, without a doubt. 
The honest look they all put on, when they say, " we've not been 
out ! " 

There was onc't a drunken fellow riding on a coach's top ; 
It gave a lurch, he lost his head and took another drop ; 
Rising with drunken dignity said, with 'pologetic cough : 
•' 1 'sposed the darned old thing upset — er 1 wouldn'ter got off !" 

The old " wheel horses " coming back and hitching to the cart. 
Are hints to us, the younger ones, that we must do our part ; 
You bet that we will do it, too, remembering well that they, 
In years gone by, have " borne the heat and burden of the day ! " 

I'm sure it is not very strange, when our stomachs get askew, 
That we see all objects through a glass, deeply and densely blue ! 
Our livers get to " cutting up," and thus our brain befogs, 
And say our country's " going to the everlasting dogs ! " 



THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 9S 

And then attain, we all ii;et tired of everlasting grind : 

Doing just as the deacon did. which I have in mind — 

His preacher found him *' biling drunk." and asked. " Wh\", what 

is this ? " 
Said the deacon with asperity, " I'll tell you how it is — 

*' I've served the Lord for forty years, without a cent of pa\-. 

And 1 kinder calculated that I've earned a holiday ! 

Weil, maybe that's the wa\- with us but now we've "• had our 

whirl." 
We'll step into the ranks again our bainiers to uiiturl : 

For now you see we're satisfied and willing to return. 

And join nou in the contlict. " w hile the lamp holds out to 

burn ! " 
For here of office provender there is a tearful lack. 
And like the wife of Lot we've been for sometime " looking 

back ! " 

With " Old filoiy " floating o'er us, which made the rebels flee. 
And marked Hold Sherman's pathway from Atlanta to the sea-- 
Victory will crown our flag, and you bet we will be there. 
To make a modest mention that " Me and Betse\ killed the 
Bear ! " 



96 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



A SPRING BEAUTY. 

Hey, little lily girl ! 
Has mamma turned you out to grass, 
Where breezes fan you as they pass. 
And sun can kiss you, little lass ? 

Hey, little lily girl ! 

Hey, little lily girl ! 
Were 1 the sun, I'd kiss your head, 
And tint your cheeks with dainty red. 
And paint your lips like scarlet thread ; 

Hey, little lily girl ! 

Hey, little lily girl ! 
Were 1 the breeze, with fingers bold, 
I'd tangle up your locks of gold. 
And hear your mamma gently scold ; 

Hey, little lily girl ! 

Hey, little lily girl ! 
Were 1 the smiling, distant skies, 
I'd come to earth, with glad surprise. 
To borrow azure from your eyes ; 

Hey, little lily girl ! 

Hey, little lily girl ! 
if you were mine, how would 1 pray. 
To feel your hand clasps every day. 
Lest, on bright wings, you'd fly away ; 

Hey, little lily girl ! 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. Q9 



THE GOOD OLD TIMES. 

I reckon we're a^oin' to hev them ^ood old times a>;in, 
An' ^it back to furst principles. So I hev kinder bin 
A polishin' up m\' mem'r\. and a uittin' my sails set. 
So's me an' Mirand\ kin sail on. without a ij:ittiir wet. 

There comes a lot of mem'rxs, a crowdin' up bv score, 

A standin' just like soldiers, in ranks before yer door. 

As you set there, with pipe alight you want to ast 'em in — 

The hull blamed kit an' bilin' an' keep 'em ef you kin. 

I like to think of ^ood old times, "bout t"ift\- \ears a<j:o. 
When I wore blue jeans, for service, an' didn't keer fer show, 
Ner frip'rees, sech as we hev now ner walk in fashion's way- 
Cuttin' Indiannx' cord wood at f"ift\' cents a da\'. 

An' take yer pa\- in bacon —or, maybe, jT:ood corn meal — 
Walkin' homeward, in the «:;loamin', h(nv ^ood it made vou feel ; 
With ^ood corn bread an' bacon -or "rye an' injun' " mixed — 
You could jest knock hun^^er end ways, if that was how you're 

t'lxed. 

The " dollar of our daddies " was skeerce in them ere days. 
An' when we used to <i;it one, 'twas one of our siv ways 
To hide it in the shuck bed, er put underneath 
The hearthstone, to keep it handy fer cuttin' babv teeth. 



100 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Er lend it round the settlement, to some onlucky neighbor, 

Who wrestled at all seasons, with very ill-paid labor — 

Per in them days of simple livin', it didn't alius foller. 

That the man with best filled quiver, alius had the silver dollar. 

Farm projuce was uncommon low, and store goods awful high, 

'Bout fifty cents fer calico, er common factory. 

An' eggs, three cents a dozen, an' even, maybe, then, 

You'd find that you'd been underlaid, by a more industrious hen. 

There was no tax on luxuries, in them days, of any sort. 

You could buy yer whisky by the bar'l, at 'bout ten cents a 

quart ; 
There was no chance of sellin' yer corn, wheat, rye or beans, 
'Less you loaded 'em on flat-boats, an' tuck 'em down to New 

Orleans. 

Bin thinkin' 'bout a bran' new house, me and Mirandy had, 
The clapboard roof was leakin' some, an' the chimbly kinder bad. 
The daubin' had a fallen out with the chinkin' an' got loose, 
So we thought the new one was in sight and repairin' want much 
use ; 

But when the 'lection news came in, 1 kinder changed my plan. 
I'll patch it up an' then turn in, an' do the best I can ; 
1 told my joy an' sorrow partner just what we'd hev to do — 
An' Mirandy sed, an' sed it loud, " Boo-hoo, boo-hoo, boo-hoo ! " 

I'll chink and daub it all around, to keep free trade wind out. 
An' corn shucks in the floor cracks will be protection, I've no 

doubt ; 
For me, the future haint got no bright anticipations, 
'Less the People's party "gets there," an' issues gov'ment rations. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



101 



Old Podunk says it come about, bv livin' up too hi.^h • 
Naber Stebbins says he thinks it come from reciprocih- • 
I swan. I don't know what to think, but feel kind o' suspicious, 
It come about by people bein' •• onnaterallv wicious " 



EASTER MORMNC,. 

We hail thee, joyous Easter Day, 
While drowsy Earth, in happiness. 

Opes timid eyes from winter's sleep. 

And from low plain and rock>- steep 
Make haste to don her vernal dress. 

While robins sinj; a roundelay. 

Oh, Easter Daw upon the breath 
Of earlv sprin^r comes this -rand thou^^ht 

That He who slept in rocky tomb, 

'Mid hours of deep encirclin^r ^rioom, 
Has mankind's resurrection wrou<;ht. 

By break inir prison bars of death. 



102 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



CHRISTMAS. 

You can tell of coming Christmas, 

By the jingling of the bells, 
By the many happy faces, 
Which are blooming in all places. 

Where the busy merchant sells. 
By the Christmas trees on sidewalk. 

By the turkeys, big and fat ; 
By well-behaving girls and boys. 
Expectant of new Christmas joys, 

Remembering " where they're at ! 

By the many merry greetings, 

By the softened hearts of all ; 
By the patient time abiding, 
And the very careful hiding 

Of presents, great and small. 
And so our thoughts are turning 

To the sweetest of all days, 
When Love goes out a smiling. 
Her lap with presents piling, 

Singing songs of joy and praise ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 103 



THE POET'S PEEA. 

SiiT^er. where do \oii find voiir joyous sonf2:s ? " 

I find them al\va\s read\- made tor me ; 
There's scarce an object in this \\i»rid ot ours, 

I^ut can be turned to sweetest poesy. 
The ureat wheel at the busy factor\- luims 

A melodv to m\ untutored ears. 
Much sweeter than the grandest, swelling ^on-j; 

E'er set to music b\' tlie rolling spheres. 

The joyous notes of liappy. whistiiii'-: men. 

Who. treed from labor's carkiui:;. wear\ .^rind, 
Whistlinij;. homeward trudi^e, loved ones to i^reet. 

Is best and grandest music to m\' mind. 
My tanc\" pictures, where, in humble homes. 

The tires ot love upon the altars burn. 
The wife's bright smile, the prattling" children's kiss. 

To welcome the tired father's iclad return. 

The noxious thistle, with its wiiiLced seeds, 
is full to overflowing with reflection's food 

To thoughtful men. reaching us that we may sow, 
Unwittini2:l\-. the seeds of bad and trood. 



104 THE HIVEK BEND AND OTHEI^ POEMS. 



How sweet 'twill be. if, at the end of days, 
When life's sun dips beneath the summer sea, 

To think, God willing, that our tj;ood seed sown, 
May fmd rich soil in nations yet to be ! 

The organ grinder, on our public street, 

Or, as he serves me at my very door, 
Reminds me oft that, better far his work. 

Than grinding e'er the faces of the poor ! 
Pathetic, too, it seems v/ithal, to me ; 

Trudging about with "weary step and slow — " 
He sadly points to me that time in life 

When all the sounds of grinding will be low. 

The bird, which cleaves the air on tireless wing, 

is a sweet poem, ever dear to me ; 
For, without chart or compass, lo ! its flight 

Is guided over unknown lands and sea. 
Then, will not He, who gave me, unasked, life, 

And placed my feet upon the thorny road. 
Well marked by stones, all stained by bleeding feet. 

Bring me at last, to His own blest abode? 

The chrysalis, with hidden germ enclosed. 

Has naught pleasing to unobservant eyes ; 
And yet, with patient waiting, warmth and care. 

Comes forth the gauzy, bright-winged butterflies. 
Will not He, who holds worlds in boundless space. 

Whose care extends to groveling things of earth. 
Give us such form as seemeth good to Him, 

When haply, we receive our second birth ? 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



10=; 



And ask you. then, where do I find my son^s ? 

They come to me in countr\- or in town ; 
The wind, the sun. the rivers whisper me. 

And 1 ? I only <,rladly write them down. 
'Tis easy when \ou know just what to say : 

The field is lar^^e and pleasant is the work - 
If you have praise, bestow it on the Muse. 

For 1 am just her confidential clerk ! 



SPRING, 

She is comint,^ up the valley. 

She is climbin^r o'er the hills. 
Strewini,^ flowers to the music 

And the laughter of the rills. 
With Violets and Sprin;,^ Beauties 

Her daint\- hands she fills. 

She is comini; up the vallew 
Brinfj;in,<,^ with her len^-thened davs, 

Keepin^r time to merry son^ birds 
And inspirin^r „i.,tin lays, 

Minirlin^r sprinir time's welcome music 
With children's out door plays. 



105 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



COIN' TO FARMIN'. 

Goin' to farm, me and Miranda is ; 

Tliat's what President Stickney says ; 
" Crappin' it," now is jest the biz, 

So President Stickney says. 
Sez he, " The cities haint got room ; 
Ef ye want to escape the impendin' doom. 
Git out — or starve in one small room !" 

So President Stickney says. 

Now, out door life is jest the chalk, 

That's what President Stickney says ; 
So 'bout five millions hev got to walk. 

So President Stickney says. 
Out on the land and raise big " craps," 
To feed the ling'ring suburban chaps. 
And we'll all be happier — perhaps; 
So President Stickney says. 

" What people want is more to eat ! " 

That's what President Stickney says, 

" For big crops, Iowa's hard to beat ! " 
So President Stickney says. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 107 

" So we're ^om' to do our level best. 
To feed the hungr\' an' oppressed^ 
Fillin' vacuums of those distressed ! " 
That's what Mlrandy says. 

" All wealth must be dui; from the .ground ! " 

That's what President Stickney says, 
So folks had better look around. 

So President Stick ne\' sa\s. 
For a place to dig. And then begin 
To dig like everlastin' sin. 
To git cities on their teet agin 1 

So President Sticknev says. 

" Now. tarmiir haint so all tired hard I " 
That's what President Stickney says ; 
Sez he, ** I'm speakin' b\ the card ! " 
So President Stickney says. 
•' Makes difference though, jest where you ar\ 
Er view it. from anear or far 
From ha\ rack or a palace car ! " 
That's what Mirandy says. 

" Yov're wantin' prosperous times agin ! " 

That's what President Stickney says ; 
"• Git out on the tarms and fetch her in I '' 

So President Sticknev says. 
" We haint the kind as'll stand aroun' 
And see our gov'ment go down. 
Jest 'cause we want to live in town ! " 
That's what Mirandv savs. 



108 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Five millions of us hev got to i2;o ! 

That's what President Stickney says, 
To ease the cities' overflow ; 

So President Stickney says. 
"Say! Got a i2;ood farm anywheres? 
We'll leave the city and its snares, 
And "go to crappin' on the shares ! " 

That's what Mirandy says. 



TEARS MINGLED. 

She lost her ear-rings in the well ; 

Alas, and a-lack-a day ! 
She wept and mourned about it, 

Till her lover came that way. 

Why did he mingle tears with hers. 
Nor words of chiding spoke? 

He remembered when he bought them, 
How he put his watch " in soak ! " 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 109 



COLUMBUS DAY. 

We're ^oin' to hist the good old tlatj:, me and my wife. Mirandy, 
Been lookin' for'ard to the day. and kept "Old Glor\' '' handy ; 
So. when (Columbus day arrives, no matter what the weather. 
We'll tl\ it from the roof, and shout for Christopher together. 

You bet it makes old folks feel good, and sets the blood a biiin'. 
To think about Ameriky and her flag with stars a smiiin' ; 
An" all the way we hev bin led by Him who has delivered 
Our countr\' from her perils oft. sence we hev bin diskivered. 

Ef it hadn't been for Christopher's inquirin' disposition, 

A long felt want an' cravin' heart to better his condition, 

What would we all hev bin to-da\- ? Historv' supposes 

We'd be eatin' acorns round a tire with brass rings in our noses ! 

An' a wearin' 'coon an' 'possum skins, a livin on half rations. 
An' a dancin' them ghost dances like the other Indian nations ! 
We'd ort to thank Queen Isabel, fer the blessin's which surround 

us 
But fer her mone\"s talkin*. Chris never could hev found us. 

Great man\ pet)ple in this land haint got no comprehension 
'Bout the bigness of the enterprise that history makes mention ; 
But jest set down and argw and turn in and insist it 
Was sech a big track of land he never could hev missed it ! 



no THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Some folks say that he was stuck on hisself, as navigator — 
But I can't find sech facts confirmed by any old narrator — 
Don't b'lieve he cared a copper cent fer hist'ry's future pages, 
But ter find a land to waltz round in 'thout fallin' off the 
aiges ! 

Well, 1 guess yes, he found it, too, this Capting of the Pinto ; 
Though San Salvador was the fust place Columbus entered into — 
I've alius thought it was a shame, sence he was out a coastin'. 
To stop at sech a one-hoss place when he could hev sailed to 
Bostin, 

An' made them Bostin folks feel good, an' gay as a red wagon. 
By addin' to their stock in trade of things they like to brag on ; 
May be, though, it's jest as well fer those days of hist'ry dim, 
As they might now all be claimin' that they diskivered him ! 

Many a man in these fast times would hev fretted at delay, 
While Isabel was gettin' ships fer him to sail away : 
Columbus sweetly smiled at fate an' didn't get disgusted — 
An' he wa'n't afeerd of collary, ef his pictures kin be trusted ! 

My eyes git kinder misty like, thinkin' of Columbia's lack — 
In them tryin' days, she didn't hev a hull flag to her back — 
But now, from drizzly Oregon to Maine's high rocky shore. 
She's dressed in stars — an', woman-like, is hoUerin' fer more ! 



So me an' Mirandy, we will fly the starry flag together ; 
We'll hist it from our cabin roof in any sort of weather ; 
We don't keer fer rain that wets, er a cold wave that benumbs 

us, 
We'll jest turn in an' shout our best fer Christopher Columbus. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. Ill 

Our Iowa, amon^ other lands, was diskivered somewhat later. 
By men who've made her what she is. Kin \(Hi pint out a 

greater ? 
Up with " Old Glory " then, that day ! Put the flag-staff in the 

socket — 
There's no persimmon up so high hut loAa's pole kin knock it ! 



Tilt: TAK'll-l-. 

She was so tall and he so short, 

She said 'twere onl\- fair. 
If he reall\ wished to kiss her. 

He must stand up on a chair ; 
'I'hen climbing down, in raptures. 

He said : '* Look a here, Mariar 
That's a splendid illustration 

Ot sugar getting higher ! " 



112 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 





CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

Christmas songs are in tlie air, 

Caroling sweet ; 
Answering voices everywhere, 

The strains repeat. 
Love and Peace walk hand in hand. 

Whispering low : 
Scattering blessings o'er the land, 

They singing go. 



Christmas songs are in the air. 

Echoing wide ; 
Tossed by voices here and there. 

At Christmas tide. 



THE HIVHH BEXD AND OTHER POEMS. 



113 



Hope and Joy, with arms entwined, 

Wanderinj^ forth. 
Touch the hearts of all manl\ind. 

O'er all the earth. 

Christmas son^s are in the air ; 

The anfi;els' sont:;, 
Sun^ to wond'rin*; shepherds there. 

Their sheep amoni:. 
Is echoinic 'round the circlint; earth. 

And blessing them. 
Who sin^ the soni; of the <ilad birth. 

At Bethlehem ! 



Christmas sonj^s are in the air, 

( )h. human heart ! 
With sweetest music ever\ where. 

Wilt bear a part, 
io swell the joyous Christmas son.u% 

With voice of praise. 
And thus with mt-lod\ pmlont;. 

This dav ot davs ! J^4 



I. *^;" 



^> 



.-JM^V- 



114 THE HiVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



WOULD LIKE ANOTHER CHANCE. 

These times are not what they used to be, 1 hear the old men 

say — 
In school modes, or in colleges, in business, work or play ; 
The folks who got their schooling in the days so long gone by, 
Look with envy on the present ways, and draw a weary sigh. 
The trouble is, as 1 suspect, our early date of birth. 
Ere Knowledge, with her nimble feet, ran swiftly o'er the earth ; 
And Wisdom cried about the streets, her virtues to enhance — 
So, after all, I don't know but I'd like another chance ! 

I miss the old slab seats — and the fireplace long and wide; 
The high and slanting writing desks, along the rough logs' side ; 
1 miss the squeaky quill pens, with home-made ink made wet. 
As in falt'ring hands they followed the copy that was set — 
" Command you may, your minds from play — " 'twas pretty 

hard to do 
In those old davs. 1 wonder if 'tis easier in the new ? 
I hope the rule of love, these days, all cruelty supplants. 
Making the old log school house boys long for another chance ! 

I miss the good old-fashioned games we used to play at noon — 
That hour seemed the shortest — study coming all too soon; 
Ah, those dear old games of " Shinny," " Town Ball," and 
" Crack the Whip ; " 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 115 

And the lau^h we'd ^ive the fellow, when he'd sometimes " loose 

his <!;rip ! " 
Your modern game of foot-ball has in it. many tumbles. 
With •• touchdowns," '' tackles," "' rushes," and many awkward 

•• fumbles : " 
ihe requisites would seem to be, long hair and padded pants — 
So 1 reckon old log school house boys don't care to take a 

chance ! 

1 miss the old love letters, with the picture of two hearts. 

Pierced, and held together, with most wonderful ot darts. 

With the oft-repeated statement : " If \du love me a^ I love 

you," 
No knife, yet manufactured, '* Can cut our love in two ! " 
Ah, me ! How much of budding love, this sentiment enshrines ; 
How main hearts have fluttered, w ith the reading of these lines ! 
Some sav marriage is a lotterv' or else a short romance ; 
But all the boys and girls I know, would like to take a chance ! 

Our bodies may grow old ; but hearts should ever be kept young — 

Hang not your harps on w illows, neglected and unstrung ; 

But sing \()ur songs of gladness, that all the world may hear — 

Who can tell what ears are open to catch your notes of cheer? 

Some men, and ver\- good ones, too, forget they once were boys, 

And frown upon hilarit\', or an\thing like ni-ise ; 

And shut their hearts 'gainst fiddles and the chaste and merry 

dance 
But 1 •' Swan to man I " 1 don't know but I'd like another 

chance ! 



16 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE OLD RAIN BARREL. 

Oh, the dripping of the water from the eaves, 

What music it has always been to me ; 
'Neath cabin roof where rustling forest leaves 
Joined the dripping in the sweetest melody ; 
With the steady, ceaseless dripping. 
As from clapboards it came tripping, 

To the music of the leaves ; 
Dropping, dropping, never stopping, 
In its drip, drip, dripping. 
Into the old rain barrel, 'neath the eaves. 



I've heard many fancy operas in my time ; 

Hand organs and pianos till I'm tired ; 
Brass bands and sounding cymbals as they chime. 
With wealth of lungs and muscles well inspired ; 
But more soothing to my spirit, 
Is the water, when 1 hear it. 

As a song my memory weaves. 
Mingling with the rythmic dropping. 
Dripping, dripping, dropping, 
Into the old rain barrel, 'neath the eaves ! 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 117 



Ah, 'mid the scenes of plenty how the heart 

Clings, vine-Hke, to the happy days of yore. 
While floods of memories cause the tears to start, 
At the thought that such sounds ma\- come no more. 
As the rippling, aqueous lapping, 
And the gentle, ceaseless tapping. 

The wearv brain relieves ; 
As it falls with rippling measure. 
Dripping, dripping, dropping. 
Into the old rain barrel, 'neath the eaves. 



The heart cry of the world is. " Tm a-weary 
Looking forward to the sunset ot our da\s. 
How our souls murmur softlw " Miserere ! " 
As we plod slowly on our winding ways ; 
But our memories never sleeping. 
E'er reminds us of the weeping. 

< )t the eaves trough as it grieves, 
V\'eeping the sombre night awav. 
With its drip, drip, dropping. 
Into the old rain barrel, 'neath the eaves ! 



Wearw sleepless, turn 1 to the book of vore. 

While Hope turns with loving hands the leaves. 
And she gives me the bright promise that once more, 
I may sleep to the sound of dropping eaves. 
Kissing down m\- exelids sweetl\-. 
Shutting out the world completely — 

Nor mockingly deceives 
Wear\- ones who love the dripping. 
Dripping, dripping, dropping. 
Of the rainfall in the barrel, 'neath the eaves ! 



118 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



PROSPERITY. 

She is standing on tlie mountain top, 
Witli eyes turned to the West — 

With thoughtful looi< and attitude she stands ; 
Her footsteps west are tending, 
Though her way seems never ending. 
In its slowness — but she's mending — 
And her coming will set humming 

All the idle wheels in Iowa's broad land ! 

Yes, she's coming through the valley. 
With timid step and slow — 

How joyously we'll greet her when she comes ! 
With all sorts of floral missies. 
And a thousand factory whistles — 
While the Wolf with rising bristles. 
From workman's door retreats before 

Prosperity's procession with her drums ! 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 119 



THE TEMPLE BEAUTIFUL. 

We are builJinir, we are buildinir. 

My little wife and 1. 
A temple called ** The Beautiful," 

Nor lands do we possess ; 
The foundation i> the Solid l\'o«:k. 

Its turrets reach the sky, 
Thf pillars which support theni 

Are Love and Faithfulness. 

Its walls will be adorned with 

Many ^oodl\' stones, 
Broujj;ht from the mines of Cheerfulness, 

And curiousl\' wrou<;ht. 
By years of wear\' toil, ma\hap. 

And man\" tears and groans. 
With uhich life's sad experience 

is often dearl\- bou.uht. 

Our rooms will all be beautiful. 
With everxthint^: so ,i:;rand ; 

Here Faith will fold her tired wings. 
And settle down to rest. 



120 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

And Hope, upon a pretty little 

Pedestal will stand, 
While Charity will have a place 

Where pleaseth her the best. 

The process has been very slow, 

As, one by one, the stones 
Have found the right position 

in the slowly rising wall ; 
And ah ! the sad mistakes we've made, 

Which memory bemoans, 
And replacing the defective ones, 

In sadness we recall. 

Oft times, when storm clouds lower. 

We'll climb the turrets high. 
Hand clasped in hand with Faith and Hope, 

To view the farther shore 
Of the land of Hope and Promise, 

Which sometimes seems so nigh. 
As it lies in quiet grandeur, 

Our home for evermore. 

Some day, not now, in other lands, 

We'll read with moistened eyes, 
The meaning of our crosses here. 

And deep, unuttered sighs ; 
And kiss the hand we could not see. 

Because our eyes were dull. 
For polishing these tear-washed stones, 

For " Temple Beautiful." 



THE RIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 121 

We are building, we are buildini::, 

My little wife and 1, 
A temple called " Ihe Beautiful," 

Nor lands have we possessed. 
And oh ! the jo\- 'twill i^ive us. 

If. in the b\e and b\e. 
The temple is accepted by 

The Kini: of Rii^hteousness. 



WHICH ? 

The New Woman and the Old Man 

Discussed, the other da\ . 
Deep and portentous questions : 

And each one had a saw 
But the discussion waxed the hottest. 

When they settled down to this 
Momentous question, whether 

•' Bloomers are .'' " or •* bloomers is ? " 



122 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



A THANKSGIVING TOAST. 

November, with Thanksgiving, passes out ; 

December, with its Christmas, cometh in ; 
We say farewell to first, with feast and shout. 

Then prepare for the happy Christmas din. 
And thus it is, the dear old earth goes round. 

Bringing gladness to so many girls and boys ; 
But not to them alone, for I'll be bound, 

The old folks will be sharers in their joys. 

In November, walk we 'mid the falling leaves, 

'Neath the sun's close-veiled and smoky glow ; 
In December, where old Winter's tempest grieves. 

Sowing lavishly, the treasures of his snow. 
And thus the fleeting seasons, one by one. 

Glide so quietly that they hardly leave a trace ; 
For the summer season is no sooner done 

Than the sun kisses earth's averted face. 

In November, heap we up, in golden piles, 
God's best gift to our Iowa — golden corn: 

December, greet we her with tears and smiles. 
For, in her death, the glad new year is born. 

Thus the days, months and years, in cycles come. 
And their beauties to the eyes of all unveil. 

Leaning on the promise, of which this is the sum 

" Seed time and harvest shall not fail." 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 123 



In November, lift we i^nateful eyes above. 

To Him. tor the truitai;e of the year; 
In December, give we feasts and i,Mfts of love. 

Filling earth full of joyous, happy cheer. 
And thus, in the changing future vears. 

May each heart, with happiness, be crowned. 
Looking up. oft through many smiles and tears, 

To the great Love, which makes the world go round. 



THH ROUNDUP. 

What? Old John (ii)ldbug dead? How sad! 

And didn't leave a cent? 
Wh\-. he was rich as Od-sus was— 

I wonder w here it went ! " 
And then the sorrowing heir replied : 
•• You see he lost his health 
In getting rich. To gft that back. 

He then lost all his wealth ! " 



124 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 




■;: *A 



THE HOMESICK HOOSIER. 

I've been thinkin', lately, thinkin' of my old home in Indianny, 
An' the cabin 'mid the beech wood, 'bout forty years gone 
past ; 

An' I've tried to pictur' in my mind the many, many changes, 
Though I like to think her over jest as I saw her last. 



I'd like so much again to hear the old cock pheasant " drummin' " 
In the thicket, on the old log, he used from day to dav ; 

That was his idee of courtin' — but don't let him hear you comin' 
Er he'll slip down in the hazel bresh and hide hisself away. 



THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



12=; 



En I want to ^ro onct more to a good old-fashioned su-arin' 
En watch its .granulations as the '' stirrin' paddle'" whirls — 

En when you talk of sweetness. 1 hev lost m\- reckolecshun 
As to jest how 1 decided 'twixt the sugar an' the ^nrls ! 



En ef it wasn't wicked. I'd like to. jest onct more. 
Step off -Monev Musk," or "Chase the Squirrel," upon a 
puncheon floor ; 




never keerd fer waltzin' to the fiddle's witchin' sound - 
You kin hug a gal much better when she haint a - bobbin 
'round ! " 



126 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



An' 1 want to jest set down to a good, old-fashioned dinner ; 

Corn pone and biled pertaters, " chicken fixins " on the right, 
Corn beef and cabbage, jowl an' greens, with artichokes an' 
onions ; 

Roast pig with apple sass, or jell — an' everything in sight. 




Ef everything's before ye, ye can make some calkerlation. 
An' kinder map out in your mind jest what yer want to do ; 

But when there's only dishes, ye kaint make prognostication 
Regardin' what you're goin' to hev — ontil ye most get through! 

1 never could get onto this new-fangled way of feedin', 
Fetchin' a little, timid like, as ef they thought 'twas pore; 

Hn when ye'd settled down on somethin' suited to your eatin'. 
Whisk off the dishes, knives an' forks, an' fetch along some 
more ; 



En settin' at the table, mebbe, 'bout three hours or over, 
En changin' dishes 'leven times, an' poppin' champaign corks ^ 



THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



127 



Ef 1 was mowin' hay away as bizzy as tarnation. 
Ye bet 1 wouldn't want to stop an be a chani2;in' forks ! 

1 kin count my herds of cattle b\- the thousand, on the hillside. 

Perarie land by sections, household treasures money couldn't 
buy — 
But ef I had the calm content of that cabin in the beech wood 

1 wouldn't swap it off not for mansions in the sk\' ! 




128 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE UNDER CAT. 

The poets have sung in lofty strains, 

Likewise all the sages doth write, 
In high-toned verses, with tears bedewed, 

'Bout the under dog in the fight. 
They'll tell you, in deep concern, the wrong 

Of strong over weak, and that. 
But never a whimper you'll get from them, 

When you talk of the uppermost cat. 

To those who watch these felines " scrap," 

in their noisy, boisterous ways. 
Observe that victory's not to the strong. 

But to wise old Tom who lays 
Upon his back, with claws unsheathed. 

His eyes with green fire alight — 
Shed tears for the uppermost cat, but bet 

On the under cat in the fight. 

The air will be full of long drawn sighs. 

With vision of claws and fur. 
With spittings and cussings, world 'thout end, 

But with them nary a purr. 
You may talk of your " knock-out " slugging bees. 

Your bicycle races and walks. 
The rowing of boats, or shooting of guns. 

For the under cat, " my money talks." 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 129 

There's joy in the battle's roar, they say. 

But Vd rather take their word. 
For 1 'spose it makes some difference 

Where you stand, when it is heard : 
But just for pure enjoyment, like. 

'Thout risk of life or limb. 
is to watch two felines wa{j:e a war. 

And the under cat bet on him ! 

it's lots of fun, they tell me, too, 

When track and weather's tine. 
To watch the face of the knowint^ man. 

Who has bet on the wroni^ equine. 
How he does cuss his own bad luck. 

While the wiiuier throws his hat 
Hi^h in the air, with lusty shout 

You see, he's the under cat. 

This lite is mainl\- a battle tor bread. 

For raiment, shelter and rest : 
And happv is he who can lau^h at tate. 

When he comes out second best. 
The earth he knows turns o'er and o'er. 

In its never-wearying tlii^ht. 
And he smiles to think that halt the time 

He's the under cat in the t'ltrht. 



130 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



PLAIN JANE AND ME. 

I alius keered fer fancy names, er sech as sounded well, 

A slippin' smoothly from the tongue Catherine er Isabel, 

Isadora, Wilhelmine, Hellena, Josephine, 

Er Manner, er Susanner, 'Lizabeth, er Imogene, 

Till 1 saw an awe-inspirin' girl, with her head well up in air. 

An' a kinder look which seemed to say : " Jest tech me, if you 

dare ! " 
My theories all took to flight — my heart thumped lustily. 
An' acknowledged that plain Jane was good enough fer me ! 

Of course she was superior — anybody could see that, 

Bv the upward tipping of her nose to match her jaunty hat ; 

An' the way she put her foot down, as she walked along the 

way, 
Servin' notice on the men folks that 'twas goin' down to stay. 
How 1 trimbled when 1 took her hand, an' with lover's down 

cast eyes. 
Asked the question she expected — with a look of feigned surprise — 
Chewed her handkercher a minit an' what she said, you see. 
Will never be reported by either Jane or me ! 

Apple blossoms are as pretty as the orange fer a bride. 
An' everybody thought so, as she towered by my side, 
So self possessed an' conscious, so smilin' an' so sweet — 
An' 1 all of a trimble, an' could scarcely keep my feet ; 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 131 

An* the crowd there all a i2;i.^jj;lin" within the festive hall — 
But 1 saw 'em kinder misty-like, if an\" wa\" at all ; 
" Will \ou have this "ere woman ? "' the preacher sez, sez he ; 
An' 1 murmured that " plain Jane was trood enough fer me ! " 

Life's jest a streak of sunshine, bordered all alon*:; the way ; 
While flowers nod approval, where'er m\- feet may stray, 
A lightin" up the narrow path with colors warm an' brl,i2;ht 
But 1 know now how the moon feels, shinin" with reflected liii;ht ! 
I haint a bra^^j^in' of it. thout^h I'm .glad to make a note 
Of the fact that I am privileged to go an' cast a vote ; 
But the honor seems an empty one, for I reck<in that to be 
The husband of plain Jane is good enough ter me ! 

She belongs to all the Winunen's Clubs, an' m\- ! she knows 

a heap I 
She can't tell all slie knows b\' da\ . so talks it in her sleep ; 
In her hungerin's fer knowledge an* improvin' of herself, 
She spends hours readin' papers she la\s on the pantry shelf. 
Proudest moments in m\ life, sence the hour I tirst knew her. 
Is when she sets an' talks to me 'sit I was ekal to her ! 
Sech picters in home lite these days are beautiful to see 
So I reckon that plain Jane is good enough fer me ! 

She can make a mustard plaster, bringin' water to the eye ; 

S:?ndin' a feller's memory to the middle of July — 

Er make a tlax seed poultice as soft as summer's rain, 

An' as soothin' as the echo of music's sweetest strain. 

I haint no cause to grumble, even it she did diskiver 

Ihat stidd\' work is jest the thing fer a feller's lazy liver ; 

An' et she does the docterin*. that's the wa\- its got to be, 

Fer I reckon that plain Jane knows what is best fer me ! 



132 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



OCTOBER. 

She is coming ! She is coming ! 

Crowned with leaves of crimson dye. 
With grape stains on her beauteous lips, 

And laughter in her eye ; 
Dodging the fast falling nuts, 

Jack Frost is scattering free, 
While tire, unconsuming, rests 

On every hush and tree ; 
With smoke-veiled face now smiling o'er us. 

Our dear October stands before us ! 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 133 



THE WORLD'S FAIR POEM. 

Tm \er\ iiuich oblee^eJ to you tor \'our tlatterin* invite, 
To write a poem tor the Fair and be there to recite ; 
Tin purty bi/./.y these ere days, me and m\ hired man. 
But I'll think it o\'er keertui like, and do the best 1 can. 

It's quite unlucky that I sent Pe^assus out to i^raze : 
For portr\- in the *' wild and woolly " hardly ever pays ; 
1 "spose that I can coax him back it he haint i^one too far — 
Et not. I reckon I can hitch m\- wa;!;on to a star ! 

When inspiration's skeer\- like, the writin" ot a piece. 
Is not. as ixinerall\' supposed, to be '* as slick as i::rease ; " 
It's purt\ nii^h as touu^h a job. as it would seem to me, 
As twistin' a shriekin" rabbit outen a holler tree ! 

I've had that World's Fair on m\' mind purty niv:h day and ni^ht, 
A tearin'. that, like Moses, I mi.^ht die w ithout the si.^ht ; 
But now 1 read m\' title clear am one of the elect, 
Jest so to speak and I'll be there, at least I so expect. 

Mirand\- sa\s I'll hev to ^\{ a new outfit of clothes ; 

Trousers, vest. Prince Albert coat — and what else, (goodness knows L 



134 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

And she's also of the 'pinion that I will look the best, 

Wearin' a sash to hide the i2:ap 'twixt onfriendly pants and vest ! 

I've been a worryin', in my mind, 'bout sellin' off some stock ; 
I 'spose 1 must, at some price, or else I'll hev to walk — 
And countin' ties in these 'ere days is everlastin' slow. 
So 1 'spose the tailless Jersey cow and calf will hev to go ! 

if the People's Party was in power, 'twould be an easy trick 

To turn our projuce into cash most everlastin' quick ; 

Fer the gov'ment would be ready, jest as soon as we could 

thrash, 
To git out papers on our grain so's we could git the cash. 

Er, if we had a lot of cows, or a onruly bull, 
Er some scabby sheep, er goats, er a hoss that wouldn't pull. 
We could send 'em to the gov'ment, by one of our smart lads, 
Who'd tie 'em to the treas'ry fence and go in fer the scads ! 

Jest what they'd want of onery bulls is more'n I can tell ; 

But they hev 'em down on Wall Street, why not Washington 

as well ? 
Mebbe next Congress may be slow, as last one was. 1 learn, 
They'll turn 'em in there ^ jest as an inducement to adjourn. 

I'm glad you're goin' to hev some things that can't be found at 

home ; 
Some " Sacred Cats " from Egypt, and some '' Catacombs " from 

Rome, 
And ef the show is carried out accordin' to programs. 
You'll hev there Ancient Rameses — and other Batterin' Rams ! 



THE HIVEK BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 13S 

Rameses was a 'Gyptian Kino; and one of his smart tricks 
Was to slip down to the brickyards and count the Hebrews' 

bricks ; 
He stepped on 'em with both his feet — but Powderlv was there, 
And as he wouldn't arbitrate, he'll brin<j; him to the Fair ! 

I'll trv and ^it there in uood time, to take in all the show, 
I've kinder mapped out in m\- mind jest \shere 1 wanter ,t;o — 
I don't know which will be most fun a min.^lin' with the races 
Er a watchin' them New Yorkers comin" in a makin' faces ! 



THH RELUCTANT IDEA. 

Her head was restinj^ on one hand. 

The other held a pen ; 
She dipped it deep, in violet ink. 

Glanced at the ceilintj; then ; 
And si^hin^. cried aloud to space : 
Not since the days of Cicero, 
Nor since the world was framed, I know- 
Have new ideas come so slow ! " 

Portj;ettini;, in her deep distress, 

Her new style '* <^raduatin^ dress ! " 



136 THE RIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE RACE AT CHEROKEE. 

Say, what you fellers laughin' at ? I reckon you have guessed 

I'm a silver miner from the State way out in the West, 

Where the Governor wished to wade in gore up to his bridle 

reins. 
An' to fight fer silver jest as long as the blood stayed in his 

veins. 
Mebbe ef you'd been where 1 hev, an' knowed what I've been 

through, 
A sleepin' out of nights, an' a feelin' kinder blue 
At the slim chances to git a homestead, don't you see — 
I'm jest back from the races down thar in Cherokee ! 

it beat a hen a peckin', to see the people, when 

They gathered in from every place, from every nook an' glen. 

An' girded tightly up their loins to run a race fer land, 

Fer which, up here in Iowa, you wouldn't turn your hand. 

There was women, men an' Injuns, a waitin' fer the day, 

Fer the signal to be given, fer all to rush away 

Across the line to mingle in a strugglin' human sea. 

In the wild race fer a homestead, down thar in Cherokee ! 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 137 



There was Missourians an" Texans. Kansas men in lari^e amount — 

I represented Iowa, as near as I kin count — 

All mounted upon wa^^ons, horses, mustangs, or on mules, 

Loaded down with cookin' implements and lots of shootin' tools. 

All a swearin' an' a growlin' an" a scrougin" all about. 

A waitin' for the pistol shots —the signal to rush out. 

Not long ago I read how Sherman marched down to the sea — 

That was a picnic, though, compared to the race at Cherokee. 

When the signal gun was tired, you'd orter see the sight. 
As us hundred thousand boomers betook ourselves to flight ; 
How we tumbled o'er each other, in our wild and mad career. 
As we lashed our horses till thev ran with speed ot trightened 

deer ; 
One woman, who. upon her back, had strapped her little tot. 
Made a gallant race, and fairl\ won a valuable lot ; 
She sat there with bab\ as happv as could be 
She'd got jest what she'd come for. in the race at Cherokee. 

'Leven bic\cle fellers took the road agin' the field, an' won it ; 
Ihev rode - Des Moines Pacemakers," or they never could a 
done it. 

Them chaps could beat the fastest train. I spose, as well as not; 
They humped themselves that time, for sure, an' each one got a 
lot. 

The •• "^ooners." the sworn deputies, an" the gov'ment's favored 

horde 
Got in a few hours previous an' nearly swept the board. 
By goblin' up the choicest lots an' landed property, 
So the stidd\- goers all got left in the race at Cherokee. 



138 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Me ? Git anything ? I guess not ; I rode a kicl<in' mule, 

An' lie stopped to l<icl^ at everything, the ornery old tool ! 

Didn't git thar till noon next day — at every wayside station 

I met some people comin' back a cussin' the administration 

For carryin' the cruel joke much furder than it orter, 

An' washin' disappointments down with government salt worter ; 

Don't know how it struck other folks — that's the way it 'peared 

to me. 
As 1 look back on the races down thar in Cherokee. 

Well, yes, that's so, jest as you say. Of course it mought have 

been, 
But 'fore I got thar all the mayors was 'lected an' sworn in, 
An' houses built in all the towns. They do things thar much 

quicker-- 
'Taint the fust time a candidate's been knocked out by a kicker ! 
Iowa's good enough for me. I'll camp here, sure's yer born — 
Say, know where 1 could strike a stiddy job of shuckin' corn ? 
An', would you mind a puttin' up a plain, square meal for me ? 
Haint had one sence 1 lost the race down thar in Cherokee. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



139 




" Edg^e Water," overlodkinjj HijjhIanJ Park, a favtirite spot of the Author, and 
where many of these poems wvre wriiieii. 



FOKTY YEAR'S IN IOWA. 



18S=>- 1£9S. 



Forty years in Iowa ! How curious it seems ; 
Like the passin^i; years of tancw or the mistiest of dreams ! 
To look back from this Mizpah. at the swiftly flying years. 
Marked with more of jo\' than sorrow, with more of smiles than 

tears ! 
To look back on the changes, for the better, it ma\- be, 
To the straggling, dirt\' village, to the city which we see. 
Friends tell us that she's smokier than ever ! Fie. for shame ! 
Clean or dirt\-, she will ever be my sweetheart, just the same. 



140 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Suppose the smoke-clouds stand above, as in the days of old, 
To mark the tabernacle, and the sacred tent enfold ; 
It means Prosperity some day, will settle down to stay, 
And fill the place with factories which will not run away ! 
Would that it were thicker ; and a thousand factory throats 
Were belching it from lofty stacks, to their whistles' noisy notes ; 
We know the soot and grime 'twould bring — but with it comes 

the hope 
Of swelling purses, making it the easier to buy soap ! 

Forty years in Iowa ! And the changes they have wrought, 
To swell her growing triumph ! Ah, who ever thought 
As he plodded through the mire, in a desultory way, 
He would travel dry shod over bricks made from this very clay !' 
Who could have faintly pictured then, the glory of a home 
'Neath the shadow and the glitter of the Capitol's bright dome ; 
Or swap slow stage for railroad, bringing commerce from afar ; 
Or harness up chained lightning to the swiftly moving car ! 

Forty years in Iowa ! And the friends we've gathered here ! 
How these golden links are strengthened, with every rolling year ! 
Tilts and quarrels may have sometimes embittered every cup — 
But the " Spirit of Des Moines " says : " Kiss and make it up." 
Cheer up and sing your peans to the State we hold most dear. 
Which celebrates her fiftieth anniversary next year. 
Get on your knees and ask the Lord to let you see that day — 
And don't forget to thank Him for a home in Iowa ! 

Forty years in Iowa ! This maid when " sweet sixteen," 
Sent out one hundred thousand sons — the bravest ever seen — 
To save a Nation and a Flag vile hands had fastened on, 
And wrote their characters in blood at Shiloh. Donelson, 
At Wilson's Creek, at Corinth, from '' Atlanta to the Sea," 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 141 

And home by way of Richmond as proud as proud could be ! 
They brou^dit •'Old Glory" with them— which not a son dis- 
graced — 
Faded, and torn, and tattered — but not a star displaced ! 

Forty years in Iowa ! Where Peace and Plenty walk : 
While Famine, sore, and Hunger, outside her borders stalls. 
Ah, who can speak the glories of this Queen, witli Plent\"s horn. 
As she sits to bless the nations, from her throne of golden corn ! 
And who ma\- tell the future of the man\' \ears in store. 
When her name, her fame, her goodness, are sung from shore to 

shore, 
As a land of sun-kissed prairies, where Plenty ever reigns - 
There's no hurr\' about Heaven, while Iowa remains ! 



SHH HAD. 

'• Didst e'er contribute for the press ? " 

Asked the editor with smile. 
Looking in her bright blue eyes, 

Her hand in his. the while. 
" (^h. yes," she said, with interest deep. 

And face with blushes bright ; 
" I often do that is to sa\-. 

By turning down the light ! " 



142 THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



HOOSIER RECOLLECTIONS. 

1 reckon 1 am jest about as old-fashioned as can be, 

An' kinder lianker after good, old-fashioned things ; 
Old-fashioned songs and stories — an', so far as 1 can see, 

The good old way of courtin', an' the style of weddin' rings. 
I've alius had an idee, that, in the good old way 

Of puttin' on a weddin' ring in such a solemn style, 
Twould last longer an' cling closter, than the style in vogue to- 
day, 

When promises are lightly made for such a little while. 

I git to thinkin', sometimes, an' questionin' myself, 

An' askin' : " Are we happy as in days gone by. 
When livin' was more simple, an' the mad pursuit of pelf 

Did not absorb our bein's ? " An' my answer is a sigh. 
Is there a Hoosier living, who would willin'ly exchange 

The ager for the microbes, the bacteria or gout. 
That you swaller with your vittles, or take in at short range,. 

Through your breathin' apparatus, to eat your vitals out ? 

Jest think of it a minute ! In the good, old-fashioned days,. 
The doctors had plain names for diseases of all sorts; 

They mixed calomel an' jalap in the most enticin' ways. 
An' tackled ailments boldly, from pneumonia to warts. 



THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 143 

In these days of swift progression, our piiysicians do not trrope 
In the dark as did our doctors ; for if they have a doubt. 

They light up our interiors, as long as there is hope. 
To see jest what is in us — an' try to knock it out ! 



I 'spose I've laughed a thousand times 'bout the old st\ie of 
courtin' 

The boys an' girls accomplished by the fireplace, long an' wide. 
While the unsnuffed taller candle, its sputterin' wick disportin'. 

Threw shadders dim. upon the wall, of the couple side b\' side. 
With taller dips fer sparkin'. 'lectricit\- isn't in it. 

When safety and convenience are the things you talk about ; 
If they ever got too brilliant, it onlx took a minnit 

10 rise to the occasion an' gently snuft 'em out! 



I think the st\ le ot kissin' in a >mall niom is the worst, 

Which sounds like the quick drauin" o\ a colfs foot from the 
mud ; 
Cii\in' parent^ the impression that the \east bottle has burst. 

As it breaks upon the stillness with a loud resoundin' thud. 
I miss the old well sweep, with its salutations bowin". 

As it brought the drippin" bucket from the waters cool below, 
With the holKhocks, the poppies, an' the tall sunflowers growin' 

B\ the well side where I've <laked m\- thirst so many years 
ago. 

M\' heart goes out in hunger for the great, wide spreading beech 

W(K)d . 

An" poplar^, with their winged seeds, around my cabin door ; 
An" troopin" back to mem'r\ comes the dear old spot where each 

stood. 

To wave its giant arms above m\' happ\' home of yore. 



144 THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

Then there was " apple cuttin's," an' the sports which came 
soon after, 
An' playin' " Sister Phoebe," in the mellow candle light ; 
Er " Marchin' down to Quebec," with a mouth chock full of 
latter ; 
As it comes back to me to-day ^ 'twas simply "out of sight!" 



Mebbe to the fiddle's sound, the boys an' girls would mingle. 

In the chaste and merrv dances so well known in days of yore. 
With ruddy cheeks aglow, while their very feet would tingle 

As they spoke their rythmic pleasure upon the puncheon floor. 
As life's shadders fade away on the paths pressed by our feet. 

Dear Friends, may it be your great happiness — an' mine, 
To sound our golden harps with a joyousness complete. 

As the notes we blew on trumpet made of punkin vine ! 



SEPTEMBER. 

Now blooms the feath'ry goldenrod, 

The flower of Iowa's choice ; 
The katydid and cricket, too. 

Have lifted up their voice. 
The works of Nature, careless-like. 

Are strewn in woods and fleld, 
Spread out in a September sun. 

With everv book unsealed. 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 14= 



CHRISTMAS noiNGS. 

( )ld Cliiistiiias is a comiir ! You kin teel it in the air. 

Fer our v\iniiii tolks are a uorkin' on the si\- an' wond'rin" where 

They can hide their precious secrets, where no pr\in" e\e can see — 

An' there's not a man on top ot icround that's tickelder than nie ! 

It's jest a Httle techin', thou;:;h an' not a Httle tun 

To hev a pair ot sMppers, er ear kivers. when the\'re done. 

As to be so ver\ Hberal re^ardin' lenj^th and si/e. 

As to cause the veriest donkey a sweet an' ^lad surprise. 

An" the children ! Bless the children, with their brains all in a 

whirl 
Don't tor^^et 'em. There is love enouij;h tor e\ er\ \m)\ an' i^irl 
if sorted out b\ lovin' hearts an' willin' hands, to bless 
All the world, on this ,ii;lad da\- ot selt-tor^ettulness. 
Let ver mem'r\ take a short cut : m\ ! how quickly old Time 

slips ; 
(^nl\ yest'day you kissed yer mother with \er taffy-covered lips, 
A wond'rin' who Old Santa was, who knew yer wants so well. 
Feelin' sure that papa knew him — if he would only tell. 

An' I used to wonder how it was. when chimble\s were so small, 
How Santa Claus could fuid the place an' leave presents fer us 

all 
An' jest the thinii^ we pra\-ed fer. too when childish hearts 

were stirred. 



146 THE HIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

In tones so loud an' earnest, parents must have overheard. 

1 hope that aU the boys an' girls will be found by good Old 

Santa, 
Whether they dwell in mansions large, or live in a small shanty ; 
An' may 1 express a hope of him — I'm sure he will not mind it, 
That there'll be no chimbly in this land so small but he will 

find it ! 

A memory rises here, an' in happy, boyish mood, 

I sit at grandpa's table in an Indianny wood. 

In a double hewed log cabin in the middle of a clearin' 

Which grandma alius spoke of as bein' " out of sight an' hearin'." 

A Christmas feast ! A pig well browned, with an apple in his 

jaws. 
Which he didn't seem to care for, or take interest in. because 
If grandpa did the carvin', he would slice him in a minit — 
An' I alius got the piece that had the kidneys in it. 

Then there was a big fat gobbler, roasted before the fire. 
Hitched to a cabin cross beam with a strong cord spliced with 

wire, 
An' it hung there jest a whirlin', as if 'twould never stop — 
An' the iron pan beneath it, caught the gravy, drop by drop. 
The table was jest loaded — an' there was no bill of fare 
That you had to read all over 'fore you knowed jest what was 

there ; 
Grandpa alius ast a blessin' — he generally said: 
" Oh, Lord, we thank Thee, ( mumble, mumble, ) Sally, pass the 

bread ! " 

An' grandma'd say : " Jest reach in an' take out. fer pap an' me 
Aint either of us any hands to wait on company." 
She alius was pretendin' like her cookin' was so pore ! 
An' yet she'd keep a urgin' us to take a little more - 



THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 147 



Said the turke\-. it was underdone, an' the biscuits was burnt 

black. 
An" all the hull endurin' day there was something out of whack ; 
An' she hoped that we could somehow make a dinner of sech 

stuff- 
Grandpa alius raised both exebrows when we said we'd et enuff ! 

An" there we"d sit an" laui^h an' joke all Christmas afternoon. 

Er ^randpa"d ^nt his t'lddle out an' pla\' a lively tune. 

So full of j()\ an' sweetness as would dispel all earthK woes. 

An' make a teller wonder what had ^ot into his toes ! 

In liddlin', ^aandpa alius took the middle of the road ; 

When he be^^an to plav a tune then ever\body knowed 

It was a tii^^ht clean to the finish, ter he sawed it through an' 

through. 
Nor skirmished round the ai^es like our modern tiddlers do ! 

Christmas may come an' Christmas t^o. but love is jest the same, 
An' will outlive all things on earth, trom riches up to fame ; 
But memory, sweet, will linger on the i^ood old Christmas times 
An' contrast them not unkindl\' with our faster rint^in' chimes. 
An' drop a kindl\' tear for those whose love will ne'er decay. 
Who are with us in the spirit on this merr\- Christmas day ; 
Whose hearts ha\e throbbed with love for all without a restin' 

spell 
For ei^ht\-five or ninety years hope ours will do as well ! 



148 THE HIVEH BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 



RECONSIDERATION. 

I wooed the Muse with sweetest daUiance, 

And asked it she would strike the tuneful lyre, 
Which, in my breast, lay voiceless — or, perchance. 

Waiting her tinker's touch of poetic fire ; 
But she, in scorn refused, with haughty brow. 

And gave me no encouragement at all, 
But said : " Why should I walk with such as thou. 

Whose sleeve ne'er rubbed inside a college wall ? " 

In silent grief, I turned to homely Prose, 

Who sat apart with modest, downcast eyes ; 
Wilt walk with me ? " I faltered. For reply she rose, 

And hand in hand, we wandered 'neath the skies. 
Where rivulets sang of Love ; and where 

Willows laved their thirsty boughs ; where bees 
With drowsy hum, and song birds charmed the air 

With sweetest music, 'mid the Linden trees. 

We stood where mountain torrents roared and rushed, 

Foaming and impatient, as they sped away : 
Or watched the eastern glow, where morn first blushed. 

Or saw the angels put up the bars of day. 
We walked where fancy or inclination pressed. 

In sweet communion, as spake mind to mind ; 
But not alone, for you may well have guessed 

The jealous Muse came tagging on behind ! 



THh HiVHH BEND AND OTHEH POEMS. 149 



iHE POET OF IHR FrTl'RE. 



Oh, ihe pnet of ihf future 1 Will he Cctnie tti us ;is C imes 
The beauty uf the bujjle's voice above the roar of druins — 
Tlie beauty of the bugle's v.iice above the roar and din 
Of battle drums that piilsi* ihe titm- ilie victor marcliL'S in V 

I\\\ts Whikomh Kilkv. 



•• Oil. the poet ot the tutiire ! " ("an aii\ bodx' ^uess 
Whether he"il sound his biiiile. or she'll wear them on her dress; 
An" will the\' kinder <;et their themes from natur'. second iiand. 
An' dish 'em up in lanijuafxe plain folks can't understand ? 

'Ihere's a si^ht ot this 'ere portr\- stuff, every \'ear. that ii;oes to 

waste. 
Jest a waitin' ter a poet, who has the time an" taste. 
To tackle it jest as it is. an' weave it into rlnnie. 
With warp an" woot ot Hope an' l.o\'e. in Lite's switt loom of 

time. 

An', mebbe the tutur' poet, et he knows everxthini:;. 

Will not start the summer kat\dids to sin^in' in the spring. 

Jest like the croakin froLC ; but let the critter wait at most. 

To announce to timid farmer, that *' It's jest six weeks to frost." 

The katydid an" ,<j:oldenrod are pardners in this way. 
rhe\" sin^ an' bloom where'er there's room, jilonii; Life's sunnv 
wa\' ; 



ISO THE RIVER BEND AND OTHER POEMS. 

So 1 warn you, futur' poet, jest let 'em bloom an' lilt 
Toixether. Don't divorce 'em. That's jest the way they're built. 

In order to be perfect, the futur' poet should 
Know every sound of natur', of river, lake an' wood ; 
Should know each whispered note an' every answerin' call — 
He should never set cock pheasants to drummin' in the fall 

" Under the golden maples ! " Not havin' voice to sing. 
They flap their love out on a log quite early in the spring ; 
For burnin' love will alius find expression in some way — 
That's the style they have adopted — don't change their natur's, 
pray ! 

1 cannot guess jest what the futur' poet's themes may be ; 
Reckon they'll be pretty lofty, fer any one can see 
That the world of portry's lookin' up an' poets climbin' higher ; 
With divine afflatus boostin' 'em, of course, they must aspire. 

The poets of the good old times were cruder with the pen ; 
Their idees wern't the same as ours — those good old-fashioned 

men — 
Bet old Homer never writ, even in his palmiest day. 
Such a soul-upliftin' poem as " Hosses Chawin' Hay ! " 

" Hosses " don't know no better, out in the Hawkeye State — 
Down to Bosting, now, 1 reckon, they jest simply masticate, 
The poet of the futur' 11 blow a bugle, like as not — 
Most all us modern poets had to blow fer all we've got : 

To keep the pot a bilin', we all hev to raise a din. 

To make the. public look our way an' pass the shekels in. 

The scarcity of bugles seem now the greatest lack — 

Though some of us keep blowin' 'thout a bugle to our back ! 



THE HIVEH BENT) ANT) OTHER POEMS. 1^1 

The poet ot the tutur' ! When once he takes his theme. 
His pen will sUp as smoothly as a canoe ghdes down a stream 
He'll sin<r from overtlowin' heart-- his music will be free — 
Would you take up a subscription for a robin in a tree ? 

He'll never trv to drive the Muse, it she doesn't want to i^o ; 

But will prninptK' take her harness off er drive keerfulK- an' 
slow — 

When portrv's forced, like winter pinks, the people's apt to know- 
it 

An' labor with it jest about as hard as did the poet ! 



CAUSH AM) HFHHCT. 

Cause and Effect went out tor a walk. 

On a tour of observation. 
And tilled up the time with sociable talk. 

Regarding their close relation. 
A bu/./. saw was speeding in silence around. 

Looking harmless as harmless could be 
it's bu/./ing I " said Cause. " It is not ! '' said Eftect, 
" At least. 1 am going to see I '' 

When whish ! There's no man who ever \et knew 
What buzz saws or the New Woman will do ! 



^ KI\^BR lOVL 



A KMVHk IDYL. 

How sueet it is. to iJI\ float. 

( )ii waters strange, in sun and Jew : 
To hear tile wilJ bird's joxous note. 

While cruising, in a staunch canoe. 
What joy to follow Nature's bent. 

Where roses wild, perfume the air : 
To mingle with ,tj:rape blossoms scent. 

And breathe in Nature everxwhere ! 

A cruise down an unknown river is one of the delights of 
lite to one who is in love with Nature and wishes to court her 
in her \arious moods, for it <j;ives one an opportunity to ^et away 
from the bus\- haunts of men and have a cliance in the quiet of 
the woods. b\ ^reat shadows of overhaniiin.L!; cliffs, or on the 
sweet-voiced ris'er. to think. How pleasant it is in this busy 
world to ha\'e a \seek in which to do up \our think in.u; for a 
year. 

In a canoe. \(Ui sit facint; the situation, on an air cushion, if 
\'ou like, while at \our back is another cushion, harder or softer 
as desired, while \'our feet are braced a.^ainst a foot rest at a 
proper distance to .t2;ive \du a position of soliditw With a double 
bladed paddle. \ou can send xour li^ht. daintx' little craft in any 
direction \ou please, or \i)u can la\" \our paddle across the coam- 



S6 A HIVEH IDYL. 



ii\L!; ill front of you and let her fuid her own wav down the 
current, while you read or sl<etch. 

in answer to the universal question asked by those unfamiliar 
with cruising canoes : " Do they upset easily ? " I will say they 
do not. A skillful canoeist is seldom, if ever, capsized while 
paddling. He sits low in the canoe and balances himself, as it 
were, by intuition. The paddle, also, assists in steadying the 
canoe in running rapids, or in rough water. A canoe will live 
in any water which is safe for a row boat if the canoeist has 
nerve and a fair amount of muscle. Accidents will sometimes 
happen ; in which case do not desert your craft. All cruising 
canoes have air-tight compartments which will float you and your 
cargo until you can get safely to shore. 

On June IS, 1892, bv the kindness of W. H. Q)uick. of the 
United States Express, a gentleman who was never known to 
forget a friend, and the courtesy of the manager and officers of 
the Minneapolis & St. Louis Railroad. Mr. Walter Weatherley, of 
the canoe, " Tumsie," and Tac Hussey, of the canoe, " Dab- 
chick," were kindly allowed to place their canoes in the baggage 
car for a run to Humboldt, Iowa, from which point a cruise was 
to be made of about two hundred miles down the Des Moines 
River. 

The country over which this road passes is very beautiful and 
what with the prairies, with their verdure and variegated flowers, 
the tintings of earth and sky. the promise of bountiful crops, it 
was a panorama which could only bring peace and contentment 
to every heart. The road runs for some distance along the upper 
Des Moines and the two canoeists saw, with much gratification the 
silver track, rippling and dancing in the June sun, upon which 
thev would soon be taking their downward course home. The 
destination reached, the canoes, by the kindness of the Russell 
House proprietors, were placed in the sample room, which is on 
the ground floor. The canoe tents were put in place, the cush- 
ions and air pillows blown up and left to the inspection of the 



A HIVEK IDYL. 157 



public, and of which privilege manv ladies and gentlemen 
promptly availed themselves. 1 wish to say a good word here 
for the bovs of Humboldt. The rooms were left open all the 
afternoon, and there were a great man\ bo\- visitors, who asked 
manv questions, which were courteously answered. They han- 
dled nothing, and not so much as a piece of cord was missing. 
On coming back to see it all was right atter a short walk about 
town. 1 found a little tour or tive-\ear-old girl snugly ensconced 
in mv canoe, sitting in state on the cushions, her little head 
against the cushioned back-board. She explained, on being dis- 
covered, as she looked up trustingK'. that she was "* taking a 
little boat \ide," and she was left in full command. How far 
she sailed, or how long she continued her imaginars cruise. I 
know not. 

The citizens of Humboldt are a ver\' genial, social people, and 
we got all the necessary information in regard to river and dams. 
Mr. Joseph McCaulev. especiallw gave some good pointers on 
fishing, as he i^ the champion ti-^herman of that section. 

( )ii rhur>da\ morning, after all needed supplies were purchased. 
the canoes were sent to the west branch of the river, near the 
creamer\ . (,)uite an interest was excited in seeing the dainty 
little crafts loaded. Each one had a cargo of at least seventy-five 
pounds, and it seemed to puzzle the onlookers to know where it 
was all to be stowed and \et leave room for the crews. One gen- 
tleman begged that we would not start until he had assembled his 
famil\' on the bridge to see the departure. All the "• duffle," as 
canoeists term it. was safely stowed so as to trim, the painters 
were loosed, and. with the crews aboard, the canoes shot down 
the swift current with onl\- an occasional stroke of the paddle to 
guide. Ciood-b\es were said, hands and handkerchiefs were 
waived, as the bridge was passed and the rapid current soon 
bore us out on the two hundred mile cruise homeward. 

How beautiful is this west branch of the l)es Moines ! Nar- 
row, swift, bounded b\' high. rock\ shores, and running over a 



^8 A HIVEH lUYL. 



rough, rocky bed, full of rapids, the roar of which could be 
heard for a mile. The scenery is wild and picturesque, sometimes 
a rockv cliff, sometimes a spreading, rocky beach, covered with 
trees, vine clad, and wild roses evervwhere. Some of the rapids 
were a fourth of a mile long, and the turbulent waters tossed 
the plunging canoes like corks, now dipping their noses under 
water and throwing the spray high in the air as they rose from 
the plunge. It is estimated that these rapids run at the rate of 
eight miles an hour, and the shooting of them w^ould be a dan- 
gerous experiment in a time of low water. 

There is nothing in canoeing so exhiliarating as shooting a 
rapid. The nerves must be steady, the eye quick and the hand 
ready. As a general thing, a canoe will find her way, but she 
must be kept " head on," for in striking a rock sidewise, the 
force of the current would capsize you in much less time than it 
takes to tell it. There are probably twenty-five of these rapids, 
large and small, including broken dams, between Humboldt and 
Fort Dodge, none of which are dangerous except in a low stage 
of water. 

The west and east branches of the river form a junction about 
nine miles below Humboldt and it becomes wider, yet by no 
means less wild. The forests become more dense, the rocky 
cliffs higher, and the river, in some places, looks as if it had 
cut its channel through solid rock. Nature is a tireless worker 
and a few thousand years makes no especial difference to her in 
the completion of a piece of handiwork. Boulders, weighing many 
tons, are to be found in the channel, around and over which the 
waters rush and roar. Occasionally a large piece of the cliff has 
become detached and falling into the channel would form an 
obstruction over which the angry water would surge and hiss, 
forming miniature whirpools, beating the water into a white foam. 

When the water becomes clear the upper part of this river 
will be a paradise to fishermen. A few casts of an artificial fly 
were rewarded by a fine, three-pound, wall-eyed pike, which 



A HlVtl^ IDYL. 159 



made an excellent dinner for two. with somethint:; to spare. Later 
in the day, some bass were taken, and in the evenin*:;. a three 
and a half pound pickerel was caught on a Buel spinning bait. 
As the cast was made from a hij:;h rock, he had to be tired out 
before he could be landed at a point considerably above, where 
a shelvinij; rock reached down to the water's edtj;e. He made 
several hitj;h leaps in his U^ht for liberty, but as he was thnilv 
hooked, a springy rod did the rest. 

The encampment was made that night in a very pretty spot, 
opposite a high bluff. A cold stream ran out of the hill into the 
river and made a handy place to stow our milk and butter after 
the evening meal had been cooked and eaten, A farm house 
near at hand supplied the milk for a small consideration and the 
two voyagers were happ\ . The canoes were '' shored up." that 
is, they were placed on an even keel in a level spot on the 
bank and sticks of right length were placed under the beading 
to hold them in that position, a quantity of feather\' willow 
leaves and twigs were strewn in the bottom, over which rubber 
blankets were spread, then the cushions were placed thereon, the 
air pillows bkiwn up. the under and upper woolen blankets were 
put in position, the canoe tents hung on the two masts and but- 
toned down on the sides of the canoes, a mosquito bar thrown 
over each door to guard against unwelcome visitors and climbing 
in they went to sleep amid the perfume ot wild grape blossoms, 
wild roses, and the music ot the whip-poor-wills. 

Did vou ever hear one of these birds sing within a few yards 
of \ou ? The\- make a peculiar little noise before beginning their 
song which 1 can onlv liken to the whirring of a clock before 
it strikes, after which the\- repeat their song from ten to eighty- 
tive times. b\' actual count. Then, after a few seconds' rest, the 
whirring sound is again made and the song proceeds. Many 
people regard the song as a mournful or sorrowful one. To me, 
it is one of the pleasantest, on account of its plaintive earnest- 
ness and general desire to be social. 



160 A HIVEH IDYL. 



Next morninii; we were awakened at day lij^ht by the snort- 
ings of a frightened horse. He had evidently come down to the 
river's bank to drink, and seeing the canoe tents In the uncertain 
light of early morning became so affrighted that he plunged into 
the river and swam for dear life to the other side, giving a fare- 
well snort as he clambered up the rocky bank and disappeared 
In the woods. An hour after, the coffee was boiling, the bacon 
was frying and a hearty breakfast was made, preparatory to a 
start on the downward course. A fog veiled the river until nine 
o'clock, while the high bluffs and forest trees were lightly kissed 
by the sun, turning them to burnished silver. 

The river, as Fort Dodge is approached, is very wild ; rocky, 
with high cliffs, from which the wild grape vine clings and the 
wild rose blooms in every available place. Large bouquets were 
gathered and placed in the forward mast tubes where they shed 
a grateful fragrance and delighted the eye at short range. The 
wild rose is one of the wild-wood beauties which appeal to the 
human heart. They seem to take delight in making glad the 
desert and waste places. Sometimes they were found growing from 
between clefts of rock where there seemed to be no soil or sup- 
port, and yet they clung and bloomed sweetly In the face of all 
dlflkulties, whether the eye of man ever enjoyed their beauty and 
fragrance or not. In the morning, they are a beautiful, bright 
pink ; at noon, a lighter pink, and at evening, the leaves are 
blanched and ready to fall — a life of beauty and fragrance for 
onlv one day. No one will deny that they perform God's mis- 
sion well, in seen and unseen spots. Is not this a lesson to 
mortals, that wherever their lots are cast, the perfume of theii- 
lives in good words and works may ever be ready to cheer the 
passer-by on the journey of life ? 

A steady roar far down the stream told us that we were 
approaching a dam or rapids. It proved to be the ruins of a dam 
a few miles above Fort Dodge. Some workmen who were quar- 
rying rock shouted to us to go to the other side, where there 



A RIVER IDYL. 161 



was less fall, but we did not think it prudent to change our 
course, so our staunch little crafts plunged over the three feet fall, 
burying their noses in the foam, but shipping not a drop of water 
as they dashed down the cataract like mad, to the amazement 
of the onlookers, who, no doubt, supposed the little crafts would 
be swamped. 

Sometimes there would be quite a long stretch of river with a 
sharp turn to right or left, and from a distance it would look as 
if the stream terminated then and there, but on approaching the 
bend, the \\a\ would be unfolded as if by magic and the course 
made plain. I could not help thinking how much it resembled, 
in this respect, the stream of lite, down which all are cruising, 
some listlessly, some thoughtfully, and some beset with fears 
within and without. There come times in manv lives when the 
way seems shut up, when the sk\' overhead is as brass and the 
dew of heaven falls not. Yet tht-y who go forward hopefully, 
cheerfulK- and trustfully will ever find a way for their goings. 

Fort Dodge was reached about nine o'clock. A rumor had 
been started in some \\a\ that two Indians were coming down 
the river in canoes, and quite a company had assembled near 
Heath's oat meal mill to see the sight. By some miscalculation 
or inattention to business, 1 allowed my canoe to drift on a sand 
bar and had the humiliating privilege of taking off my shoes and 
stockings and towing her to deeper water. A landing was made 
at the wagon bridge, and the tirst man to greet us was our old 
townsman, H. 1\*. Heath. Two hours were spent in getting some 
supplies and looking over Heath's magnificent oat meal mill, 
which is the pride of Fort Dodge, and calling on a few acquaint- 
ances. 

Fort Dodge is a prett\-. thriving little town, with abundant 
material for ever\ kind of a factory. You can find anything here, 
from limestone rock to material from which to make a " Cardiff 
Giant." Adjutant General Baker once explained the formation of 
this wonderfull\- diversified region by saying that " when the 



162 A RIVER IDYL. 



Lord finished makinti; the earth, He had a few odds and ends 
of all kinds left over, so they were dumped out at Fort Dod^e." 

A^ain on board, the canoes were allowed to drift down the 
swift current, while the canoeists lay back on the cushions with 
sighs of calm enjoyment. For miles the river has sloping, grassy 
banks, strewn, here and there, with boulders. Amid stream, great 
rocks lay, partially submerged, around which the current rushed 
in many circling eddies. Some of them were eight or ten feet in 
diameter, the relics of the glacier period, when mountains of ice, 
thousands of feet thick, ground mountains of rock into boulders 
as they moved on their way south at the rate of four or five 
inches a day during the millions of years the earth was being 
prepared as a battle ground for wealth and preferment for ever 
greedy man. 

Everywhere, from the beginning to the end of the journey, 
was displayed the wonderful power of water. Thousands of for- 
est trees were uprooted and seemed as straws when the flood 
was at its height, as they were undermined and laid in rows 
where the river made a sharp turn and rushed across to the next 
bend. Sometimes the flood became humorous and played fanciful 
tricks with drift wood and debris. At the top of an immense 
drift, at one of the bends, a small tree was lodged which drooped 
gracefully twenty feet above the water. Upon this tree was a 
kitchen chair, in its natural position, swaying to and fro in the 
breeze. It is estimated that to have placed that pile of drift 
wood in position and crowned its summit with a chair, so airily 
poised, would have cost a gang of men a week's work and 
more profanity than to have put up a twelve-jointed stove pipe 
in the presence of a suggestive wife ! 

A camp that night was made on an island. It was also 
strewn with debris. The nail kegs found there made a beautiful 
camp fire, but the cart wheel, horse collar and boy's wool hat 
could not be utilized. We slept the sleep of the tired that night, 
to the music of the water on ali sides and the never failing 



A RIVER IDYL. 163 



whip-poor-will on either shore, enhanced, no doubt, by a thoroui^h 
bath from one of the pebbly shores. Mosquitos were ver\- numer- 
ous in the woods and on the river, but when the canoe tents 
were in position, closely buttoned down to the sides of the canoes 
and the netting hunfi across the doors, the mosquitos were not 
in it with us. 

There is not, to a huntj;r\- man. a more appetizinji; smell than 
that which comes from boilinji; coffee and fr\intj; bacon. When it 
is done crisp and brown, break your e^^s and cook them slowly, 
turn them, if \ou like them that way, and with brown bread 
and butter, \ou have a breakfast fit for a kin^. 1 am sure you 
are anxious to know how the coffee was settled. There was no 
settling to do. Small bags of cheese ck)th were provided by a 
thoughtful wife, and the water was put on cold, with the proper 
amount of coffee in the little sack, and that was all there was 
to it. When it came to a boil, it was set on another part of the 
fire to simmer gently until ever\thing else was ready to serve up. 
The washing of the frying pan has always been looked upon as 
an irksome task. In camp, it was a pleasure. So soon as the 
fr\ing is done, till the tr\ing pan with clean. dr\ sand and let 
it stand until the meal is finished. The sand has, by that time, 
absorbed all the grease and a vigorous rubbing with a dry rag 
and tine sand will make it shine like a mirror and remove every 
particle of unpleasant odor. Tin plates, knives, forks and spoons 
will \ield to the same kind ot treatment, except that the applica- 
tion need not be so vigorously applied. 

Canoes launched, loaded and we are on the wing again. 
Lehigh was touched long enough to get some supplies and chat 
with the many people who came to see the canoes and to ask 
about our starting point, destination, and whether we were '' doing 
it for tun." There was one question which was universally 
asked : '* What do such boats cost ? " Our invariable reply 
was, " one hundred dollars, fully rigged for sailing, paddling or 
cruising." 



164 A RIVER IDYL. 



We were off again, leisurely paddling down, on the alert for 
a good camping place. As the skv v\as clear and no sign of a 
thunder storm in the air, a dense forest was chosen, near a 
deserted house. Supper eaten, tents were being pui over the 
canoes, preparatory to turning in as soon as darkness appeared, 
when a faint sound came from far down the river, coming nearer, 
and anon fading away in the distance. As the sound came nearer, 
it was discovered to be a small pack of fox hounds in full cry. 
Their owner, who came near us, explained that his hounds had 
struck the trail of a wolf, as it was supposed, but he had taken 
them from the trail, as the fur was worthless at this time of 
year. On account of the flood driving these animals to the high 
lands, he had caught seven in the last two months. While the 
sport may be considered somewhat questionable by many people, 
it would be hard to convince any one who has ever " followed 
the hounds " that it is not the most exhilarating music in the 
world. The only gun in camp was double shotted that night. 
Camp axes were placed in easy reach and the canoeists slept on 
their arms, so to speak. 

Passing the mouth of the Boone River, we asked a man who 
was herding cattle some questions in regard to the locality, which 
he answered very politely, after which he whipped up his mule 
and rode down the river bank at a rate of speed usually acquired 
by those " going for a doctor " in an urgent case. The cause 
of his rapid riding was made apparent at the next bend of the 
river, for he had marshaled his wife, children and mother, to the 
river bank to see us pass. The canoes were pulled up close to 
the shore for their inspection and every question answered in 
detail, and when we bade them a pleasant good day, they 
watched us until the bend of the river hid us from view. 

During the day, we passed a beautiful, rocky cliff of perhaps 
a mile in length, in the shelter of which, grouped in neighbor- 
hoods, were the nests of hundreds of cliff swallows. These nests 
are built of mud, of a peculiar kind of soil, which seems to 



A RIVER IDYL. 16S 



adhere to the overhantj;in^ rock in so soMd a way as to bear the 
burden ot its own weight, the mother and younjz; birds. The 
nests are built somewhat round, suggestive of a jug, the neck of 
which turns sHghtly down, the better to keep out the falHng 
rain. It would puzzle a boy or a girl. 1 think, to make so com- 
plete a house as these patient birds have made without hands 
and to group them so artisticalK' as thev were here placed. I 
paddled m\- canoe u ithin a tew feet ot their nests and the colo- 
nists, as they were approached, came out in great swarms, filling 
the air with their alarmed twitterings. It is likely this was the 
first time during nesting season they had been disturbed, as the 
river side of the cliffs was inaccessible except bv boat. 

We intended lying still in camp all da\ Sundaw but our sup- 
ply of ice became exhausted, and ue concluded to drop down, 
quietly, to Moingona for more. It had been a source of amuse- 
ment to ask of t'ishermen and others the distance to the next 
bridge, town or railroad, in order to hear their widely different 
answers. The most truthful answer, probablv, was given by a 
grave individual who was indulging in a Sunday fish on a shady 
bank. I asked, " C^an \(iu tell me how tar it is to Moingona ? " 
He cleared his throat as he tlu)ughtfull\' answered, " Damflno." 
We passed. 

Moingona was reached, but not a pound ot ice could be had, 
so we went into camp a >hort distance below to spend the day 
quietly. A storm ot wind and rain broke upon us at six o'clock, 
but being well protected b\ our tents we enjoyed the grateful 
change ot temperature. Soon alter, a beautiful rainbow made its 
appearance, and it such a phenomenon occurred only once in a 
hundred years and had been well advertised, it would have had 
an audience of the best and most scientific people of the old and 
new wt)rld. 

While tliere are man\- beautiful things in nature, there are 
occasional tragedies in the animal and reptile kingdoms that sel- 
dom fall under the observation. On an island, far up the river, 



166 A RIVER IDYL. 



there hangs by the neck, in the narrow forks of a willow tree, 
eighteen feet above the present river surface, a large turtle. How 
did he get there ? The explanation is easy. While swimming 
down a swift current his head was caught in the forks of a 
willow, and, slipping down to the narrower part as he struggled 
for freedom, was held as by a vise. Turtles are very tenacious 
of life. Perhaps he lived for days, and, as the waters receded, 
he hung high and dry. 

It was only by chance, a yearling calf was discovered, entangled 
in some roots at a precipitous bank where it had fallen. Its pit- 
iable condition excited our sympathy, and after a little time it 
was disentangled and urged down the river where the bank was 
less precipitous and where, after several efforts, it got safely upon 
solid ground. 

On Monday morning, we rose with the lark, as High Bridge 
was to be reached at three o'clock. We were delayed until nine 
o'clock in starting. Mr. Weatherly, in trying to get some water 
for the coffee, trusted to some roots projecting over the river bank, 
but they proved to be rotten and he fell in twelve feet of water, 
very pluckily holding on to the coffee pot. I ran to his assist- 
ance, rescuing the coffee pot, while he, " grabbing a root," and 
dripping with coolness, scrambled out, laughing heartily. There 
was no change of clothing in camp, so there was only one thing 
for him to do — wring out the wet garments, hang them on a 
line in the sun, and array himself in a big blanket. In consid- 
eration of his moist condition, breakfast was served in the broiling 
hot sun. 

Off at last for an easy day's work of thirty-five miles. The 
river had become more common-place, and yet there were some 
beautiful forests, rocks and bluffs. The wildness began to wane 
after Moingona is passed and instead of rocky banks, mud is 
the general character of all landings. 

The bluffs of High Bridge were seen about three o'clock and 
half an hour later, our canoes were resting under the sugar maple 



A HIVEK IDYL. 167 



trees of that picturesque spot. The .ground was strewn with bro- 
ken bottles, playing cards and fiitli of all kinds, and it needed 
not any description of the Sunday picnic to desiii;nate its charac- 
teristics the day previous to our arrival. 

it seems too bad that so beautiful a spot should be j^iven 
over to such a debauch and Sabbath desecration. Bein^^: hungry 
for news, not havinii; seen a Des Moines paper for some days, a 
search was made in the hope that some of the frai2;ments might 
be found to give a little home news. I succeeded in finding half 
a Register, well stained with what might have been iced tea, a 
fragment of beer-stained Leader, and an Iowa Capital complete, 
well frescoed with custard pie. With these a very pleasant hour 
was passed. 

A storm ot uind and rain caught ns here, and it was one of 
the most bli^>tul experiences ot the cruise to lie snugl\' in our 
co/.v little nests and hear the rain patter within a few feet of 
our faces. 

High Bridge is a prett\' spot. It is about as prettv as nature 
can make it. A new steel bridge is soon to take the place of 
the present one. which will much enhance its beaut\' and grand- 
eur. 

A hearty breakfast was eaten about ten o'clock and prepara- 
tions for the last da\'s run was made. The rain still continued 
at intervals after the start, but with the deck hatches aiid rubber 
blankets in place, it mattered but little. 

The famou-- Willow Spring, at Cor\don bridge, was a welcome 
sight ; for no thirst\' one ever drinks of the water there but 
remembers its sweetness and purit\' ever after. The water is free 
to every passer b\' and the spring was never known to fail. 

From Cor\don bridge, it is an eas\' journey to Des Moines. 
Soon the river became more familiar. Lawson saw mill, mouth 
of Beaver. McClelland's mill. Nourse's farm, and now soon the 
capitol dome, lighted up bv the setting sun of the longest day in 
the Near, tells of the cruise so nearly and happilv ended. And 



168 A RIVER IDYL. 



now, rounding Thompson's bend, a portion of the city bursts on 
our sijj;ht in the rays of the departing god of day. Home and 
friends ! The canoes are placed in their accustomed brackets and 
we tread the noisy streets ten times more noisy by contrast 
with a week of quietness, yet with a happiness that even a 
knowledge of accumulated work piled up before us cannot take 
out of our hearts. 



